I took my kids to a home schooler's skating party today. Champs Rollerdrome. No, they have not changed a bit. Disco lights, smoke machine (Hey, our Church has one of those!) and lots of super fast little rugrats whizzing around at just below light speed.
I wore a skirt and brought my knitting.
But after her first lap, my youngest BEGGED me for help. When did she not learn to skate?
There was nothing to it but to do it. Doesn't the gospel say something somewhere about laying down one's life????????
My worst fall was once when my daughter pulled me down and I landed on top of her, but with most of my weight falling on my bad knee that had one of my fingers between it and the floor.
I'm not making this up. But my finger is not broken, neither is my knee and I did get some exercise.
And by the end of the skate party, my youngest was much more confident on her skates.
Then I remembered that the reason I wasn't out there doing this with my kids when they were oh...say...FIVE, is because that's when I was almost bedridden with fibro.
And not I'm glad enough to be able to do this sort of thing that I'll risk my aching knees and sore back for a little bit of ear thumping music, a breeze on my face and the glide of skates across an old hardwood skating rink floor. I can almost pretend I'm young again.
But I'm not.
Next time I think I'll wear a looser skirt. ;-)