
Shef started skating lessons yesterday. He's kind of interested in hockey. I'm leery of hockey as a sport choice because at least 85% of the hockey boys I've taught in eight years have been pretty much assholic.
But Dan kept telling me that if I didn't let Shef learn how to skate RIGHT NOW, I would ruin forever any chance he'd ever have of playing on any hockey team in the universe, even the nice ones. So I relented.
Shef is convinced he already knows how to skate because he's seen
Ice Princess a few times. He was jumping around on his little rented figure skates the lobby before his lesson, and he and Dan were quoting lines from the movie, like "The toe pick is there for the reason! Use it or no friends over for a week!" And, "Those skates take, like, a
minimum of ten days to break in. Everybody
knows that." And, "To increase the height of my jump, I'll apply more force with my toe pick."
I thought this was pretty embarrassing, especially when Dan was crossing his arms across his chest and pretending to take off for a salchow. Also when he was watching the real skaters, and saying things like, "She keeps popping her lutz."
"What level are those girls?" Shef asked.
"Junior Pass," we told him simultaneously, and then we laughed because we have no idea if that's actually a real thing.
When Shef lined up with his class (no parents allowed inside the rink), Dan said meaningfully, "Hey, Shef! Skate with your heart, Buddy."
The lesson, which we watched through the glass in the lobby, consisted of moving about ten feet and then practicing sitting down and standing up.
Afterward, the kids were allowed to grab a cookie from the sign-in table. "Did you skate already?" the table lady asked cheerfully.
"YES," Shef told her. "I was totally awesome."