Rose and I have a new activity: roller skating. It's way cool. Every Friday night, the local community center puts on roller skating for elementary school kids. It's like a seventies time warp. There's no disco ball or grape soda, but the total cost, including skate rental is three dollars, they do the hokey pokey, they shoot the duck, if they had red carpeting on the walls and ran a snowball, I would be completely reliving my youth.

They have a room especially set aside for beginners. That rule isn't strictly adhered to and I get mighty annoyed when boys come careening through threatening my unstable daughter and my ancient bones. (Truly, I was feeling like a little old lady—don't knock me down! don't knock me down!) But basically, I feel safe and Rose doesn't seem to mind.

We've gone twice now. The first time she fell down a lot but managed to let go of my hand and the wall. This time she fell down less, her body position looked better, and she considered taking my advice on push off and glide. Not that I'm a great skater. I can't actually lift my feet off the ground or stop myself, but I do know how to shift my weight.

Rose and I spend a half hour to forty-five minutes just the two of us every night, but it almost always involves the activity of her choice. I'm sick of Mille Bourne. It's nice to have some Mommy/Rose time that is something we both choose to do.