Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Thin Ice

Last weekend, David and I decided to take our 28-month-old Snood... skating.

This was news which caused a friend of mine to remark:

"Ice skating? Really? I can only assume this is because there were no openings at the skeet shooting range?"

But allow me to defend myself by providing a bit of backstory. A week ago my husband came to me with the following announcement:

"There's this alumni event at the downtown skating rink this Saturday, do you think we could take the kids?"

At which point I realized I had a choice:

A) Let my husband go to said event by himself, thus condemning me to an entire Saturday at home alone with both boys....


B) Strap some sharp metal blades to the feet of my tantrum-prone toddler and hope for the best.

I chose "B" and never looked back, people.

And so it was that we found ourselves at the Pershing Square ice rink bright and early last Saturday morning pulling on our rental skates and attempting to formulate a plan of action.

We opted to leave Crinkles on the sidelines under the watchful eye of some alumnae pals so that David and I would each be free to each take a Snoodie paw and help guide him around the ice.

This seemed like a fairly foolproof plan until I witnessed my husband take the ice, creeping forward one-eighth of an inch at a time while clinging to the wall like a drowning animal. No, I saw, my dreams of the two of us sailing across the ice with our little Snood snuggled between us were never to be.

I was going to have to go it alone.

And so I grabbed the Snood under each arm and set off. By holding his feet towards the ice as I propelled myself forward with awkward jerking motions, I was able to circumnavigate the rink two or three times to Snoodie's vast delight and happy cries of,



For exactly 76 seconds.

At which point my back began to give out, slowing my forward progress significantly. This lack of speed caused the Snood's excitement to evaporate immediately, a fact he conveyed simply yet absolutely by rolling about the rink while shrieking, "I NO YIKE DIS ICE!!!!!" Did a multi-skater pileup result? I refuse to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate my offspring.

David and I managed to pull Snoodie from the ice. We then put our eyeballs in mortal danger in order to remove the skates from his flying feet of fury...

...without foreseeing that the moment Snood's unencumbered feet hit the ground he would be OFF and running, a significant problem considering that my husband and I were both still wearing our skates.

Off he took, heading across the astroturf area that surrounded the skating rink at top speed. I attempted to lumber after him but with skates on I was no match for Speedy GonSnoodez - the fastest toddler in Christendom.

As he reached the end of the astroturf-coated skate-friendly area I feared all was lost. He was heading across the paved expanse for the wilds of downtown Los Angeles, a place where I, his be-skated mommy, could never follow.

And so, not seeing any other option, I simply shut my eyes and screamed at the tops of my panicked lungs:

At which point a kindly park security guard heeded my call, gave brave chase after Snoodie's departing blond head and managed to catch him just before he was about to make it down the subway stairs....

...and won a permanent place in my heart as most favorite park security man EVER.

After lovingly leading Snoodie back to me, he put a firm hand on my shoulder before solemnly intoning,

"I think maybe skating's not the right activity for you guys."

You may have a point, favorite ever security man. You may have a point.