Watch my icy hot super slide

We've been in a weather conundrum lately. Since the 1st of the year G has found it too cold to ride in Thomas, and there has not been enough snow to XC Ski. I've managed to get some long weekend rides in with friends but G has been left to put out fires with his Emergency Response Play Mobile Team: Funston, Crunch, Rick and T.C. (who pilots the chopper) or watch cartoons.

Now, suddenly snow is plentiful in the forecast. But until the accumulation builds we have opted for ice skating. G's Palmares now include skuut bike down hilling, swimming, surfing, bowling, skiing and trolling the ice rink to pick up 'potential baby sitters' at the mall.

The build up to our first skating venture was increased when after lacing up in the arena basement we approached the rink and found 50 kids leaning against the chain gate waiting impatiently for the Zamboni to finish it's laps. Gavin asked me in a whisper if this was a race. The 10-year old standing next to us looked Gavin down, head to toe and asked me, "is he any good?" I replied, "Yeah, he's kick-ass." Then Gavin asked if the kid was a girl. He was not, and turned away after saying so much.

After a half hour of steady left turns, G's grip on my hand was merely a light contact of a single digit for security. He was still doing more stepping than skating, but was finding his balance. His ankles never pronated nor did he hang onto the wall for security. Adrienne stood at the exit of the ice holding our coats and boots and hoped to take a zillion pictures. Some random little girl tasked her with holding her 20 oz. soda, so pictures didn't materialize quite so easy. Every lap or two the girl would skate up to the wall, "Lady, I need my drink." then try to set it down on the slanted railing to which A would save from sliding off and landing on the ice.

We were 45 minutes in before one of us landed on the ice. Every lap when passing the parked Zamboni, G looked over and called to it by name. Finally as fatigue began to set in, he slipped straight across my line and in an effort to save him from a fall, or from skating over the top of him, I gave him a spin worthy of Blades of Glory but landed square on my ass while holding him up. Scared by the suddenness of it all, he cried a pathetic cry to a high school girl who consoled him while I got myself up.

Look Dad, a Zamboni just like on the last lap!