Twice a month, our local roller skating rink offers Homeschool Skate Day. For $3.00 per person age five or older, kids (and moms!) can skate for two hours. The price includes a snack of popcorn and a small soda.
We attended a skate day this week — the first in a long time for us. The older three remembered how to skate, and Luke started working on his balance again. While there, I talked with a friend and told her the story of our first time at Homeschool Skate Day.
It was actually years ago, when Luke was still a baby — I think he was about a year old at the time. Lillie was around four, Cassie was about six, and John eight. Four young children and none of them could skate — what was I thinking?
Believe it or not, everything went well until it was time for the races. Cassie wanted to try racing, but because she couldn’t skate well yet, she wanted my help. Parents were allowed on the skating rink in tennis shoes to help younger children, so I told Cassie I’d walk along with her. Not knowing anyone there yet, though, I couldn’t leave Luke behind for someone to take care of, so I carried him in one arm and held Cassie’s hand with my free hand. The races started on the other side of the rink; in order to participate, we had to cross the middle of the rink to the starting line.
They called Cassie’s age group, and we started across. By the time we were about halfway there, everyone else was lined up already. They were waiting for us, so I tried to hurry Cassie along by tugging on her hand a little. I tugged, she slipped, and her feet went directly under mine.
With a crash, Cassie, Luke, and I fell to the floor. I hit the hard surface directly on my knees as Luke arched his back so his head went way back, and it was all I could do to keep it from hitting the floor too. He started to cry, Cassie started to cry, and I couldn’t move. To make matters worse, everyone was watching, waiting for the races to start.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably just moments, someone came out and helped us up, and we struggled back to the seating area where we had come from. Somehow, we made it through the rest of the day, though my knees were black and blue for several weeks following.
We did go back the next time, and no one mentioned anything. And now, five years later, no remembers a thing about it. Or maybe they do — they’re just too polite to mention it. 🙂