My sister did her 40th birthday bash the same way she did her 30th, an ice skating party. Of course, last time there were no kids, and this time at least a third of the guests were under 8. I got to the party before my kids (traveling with grandma), so I got some good skating in before they arrived.

I’m a bad skater. I’m not atrocious. If I concentrate, I can make it around the rink without stalling out or falling over, but I am nowhere near good enough to be the strong steady partner a never-before-skated child needs. Rose wasn’t interested anyway.

She had a great time clinging to the edge and propelling herself along. I remember doing that and getting to the far end of the rink and just feeling like I’d never make it back. Rose didn’t have that panic attack. I kept her company on one round, and she really liked it when she could get ahead of me.

I hadn’t planned on David going on the ice. I hadn’t planned on David. He saw everyone else getting skates on, and there wasn’t much choice. But once on the ice, he wouldn’t let anyone but Mommy help him. Did I say I’m not good enough to help? We managed to only get our feet tangled up once. Otherwise, as long as he kept his feet together and out in front, I could propel us along.

When he relaxed a bit, he let my sister, a good skater, take him for a whirl. I’d like to go skating more, and I’d like to get better at it.