forty two

These girls of ours have found a winter love. We’ve jumped toe-pick first into the world of ice skating and they have taken to it like little penguins. What I have discovered, though, is that a love of skating does not necessarily mean that it is the main attraction when we get to the rink.

They usually want to check out the vending machines. Then they need to see if the “roller coaster gum ball machine” is still ‘out of order’ [it is]. They often poke their heads into the pro shop to say hello. Once we finally get geared up they take off on the ice, but it doesn’t mean they won’t be stopping soon to sit on every inch of each of the hockey team benches. They’ll probably try opening and closing the doors once or twice as well.

The highlight of the trip is watching the Zamboni. They give the driver a wave every time he passes by and they ooh and aahh at the trails of smooth, wet ice he leaves behind. They are usually silent observers, but today Catherine turned to me and said, “He’s doing a really good job today, don’t you think? The ice looks great!”

What adventures and discoveries would we miss if I stuck to my plans to “go skating” and hurried them into their skates and onto the ice? What relationships would never be built if I kept them from chatting with the rink employees and the other skaters, both children and adults alike? What observations and compliments would never get made if we retreated to the car as soon as our feet were back in our shoes?

As usual, my plans to “go skating” were so narrow. And my children’s plans to “live life” were so wonderfully broad. Their experience is not my experience and I am so thankful for their perspective.