What I Imagined Ice Skating Lessons Would Be Like

We were running a little late to ice skating lessons today (really, just like two minutes late), but Reid jumped right in with his class when we got there. 

His teacher brought out the basket of beanie baby animals they played with last week but took some time to explain a new game they'd play this week. All that was in one ear and out the other for Reid. Once his teacher gave them the clear he marched on over to his beloved Camel and began smoothering it in kisses (literally, and it was adorable) Then he threw it across the ice. He was redirected about three times but still never caught on to the new game. 

Eventually he even stopped trying to skate. He simply crawled across the ice. It was frustrating to watch. When he finally caught on to the new game he stood up and took a few more marches toward the Rhino and smack! He found himself on the hard end of a rough fall. His head kind of whip washed when it hit the ground, and though he had a helmet on I was pretty sure his face met the hard, cold ice and was forced to rebound into the air. 

He was inconsolable. His teacher tried her best, but he was not going to stop crying until he got a hug from mama. I tried my best to shout encouragement from the stands, but soon his teacher waved me down, as she had spotted blood on his lip. I'm not sure if he bit it when he fell or if it just dried up and cracked from all the crying. When we met at the gate the first thing I noticed was the bump just beside his eye. I found it ironic that he needed ice to help the swelling -- caused by ice. 

The poor kid was kind of terrified after that. On our drive home he told me he never wants to go ice skating again. This is exactly how I predicted lessons would go. 

 

Who knows how he'll feel next Monday. At dinner (two hours later) he told Ben lessons were fun and he liked his ice skating class. He wanted us all to play the fox game with him. Being "Mr Fox" was the reward his teacher gave him for his bravery upon returning to the ice. But like the first game they played, he didn't pay attention to any of the rules and when his classmates asked him what time it was he said "Time to eat a mouse!" instead of an actual number (the amount of steps they were suppose to march toward him).

We played a couple rounds of Mr Fox at home and went to bed hoping he'll have better luck (and less bruises) next week.