 I don't live in Buffalo any longer, however. My younger children
hadn't lived in a cold climate for most of their lives, so ice
skating is as foreign to them as surfing is to their Buffalonian
cousins.My daughter thought she'd like to win an Olympic medal
and she thought the best way to do that was to learn how to ice
skate.
Far be it from me to discourage a future Olympic medalist.
When we arrived, my son was surprised to realize that the ice
rink was cold. The physics didn't kick in until he fell the first
time.
"Mom, this is real ice!"
"Is that so?"
At first, all three of them hugged the side walls of the rink. I
was informed that the ice was slippery.
Having practically been born on ice skates, I was having no
trouble at all. A few collisions with a munchkin were always a
possibility at a public rink, but I managed to keep myself upright
for most of the time. My kids were amazed that such an old person
could skate on that slippery ice without falling. I was insulted and
gratified at the same time.
My daughter finally decided that if she wanted a shot at an
Olympic medal, she would have to let go of the side. I told her that
the only difference between her and an Olympic gold medalist was
that the Olympians have fallen more than she has. She counted all of
her falls.
The older son would let go for short forays, punctuated by
scissoring his feet rapidly for a few yards then slumping in an
awkward pile onto the ice. If there was no danger of getting body
parts sliced off by an approaching speed skater, he'd lie there in
his awkward position as if posing for an imaginary photographer. He
tells me that he was trying to imprint these ignominious falls onto
his brain so that the next time I asked him if he wanted to go
skating, he'd remember how much he hated it.
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 The youngest boy would wait until I came within colliding
distance. Then he would dart away from the wall, right in front of
me.
"Look, I'm an expert skater now!"
I deftly avoided this careening catastrophe and watched as he
took three giant strides and concluded his performance with a
spectacular fall.
I say "spectacular" not only because I'd never seen so many
different ways to fall but also because the boy has no shame.
He was wearing a pair of pants that didn't fit his waist. He wore
no belt. And he decided to go "commando" that day.
It became clear that the long strides were mostly to help keep
his pants up. The spectacular falls became necessary because his
hands couldn't break his fall. They were too busy holding his pants
up.
Regardless of these measures taken for modesty's sake, he
regularly mooned every skater in the joint with his skinny little
hide.
He should have simply held on to the side to avoid so much
attention, but then how would he hold his pants up? He may actually
have invented a new winter sport: moon falling.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
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