The last time I went ice skating I was a freshman in high school in Fairfax, Virginia. On Friday nights our parents would carpool the group of us girls to the rink where we’d make the circuit, gossiping and scoping out the boys. I did pretty good on the skates back then. What I learned today is that ice skating is not like riding a bike.


After Hannah’s inaugural skate on the duck pond last weekend, I decided that I wanted to take a spin. Now here’s the thing that’d different about skating on a pond; there are no boards to hang onto as you find your ice feet. So I resorted the equivalent of a walker – scooting along behind this folding chair.


Unlike riding a bike, my balance didn’t come back right away (maybe not at all). Who knew ice was so slippery? Surprisingly, my ankles held up pretty good – a point I shared when telling Paul about my adventure. Then he pipped up with, “That’s because it’s the one body part you haven’t injured yet.” Huh.

Hannah watched me scoot agonizingly slowly across the ice, leading only with my right foot, and suggested that I really ought to be wearing a helmet. Who’s the adult here?!