Life Lessons From Skate City What My Five-Year-Old Taught Me About Life By Sue Dickinson
His little face looked up at me as if asking “why am I doing this?” It was my son’s first (but probably not his last) visit to Skate City: Birthday Party Mecca of Southeast Aurora. While he had never skated before, my son had been completely confident that it would be no problem. On the drive over to Skate City, as I discussed the mechanics of roller skating and the option of locking wheels, he’d scoffed me with a nonchalant “I’ll be fine - Dad said it’s just like skiing.”
But now, as we watched the skaters glide over the floor, his bravada disappeared, and all I saw was a small boy, afraid. “It’s big, and looks slippery,” he said quietly as a small boy fell right in front of us. “You can go really fast.” I repeated that he had the option of locking wheels, but after inspecting the skates he decided they weren’t for him. So on went the real skates, the ones that would be slippery and fast.
His friends started to arrive for the party. One took off immediately on his roller blades, flying across the floor amidst exclamations of admiration from my son and his other classmates. Others chose the locking skates, and began the slow, arduous journey around the rink in a funny stilted style that checked their speed and kept them from losing their balance and falling. My son, never on skates before, started out on the carpet, getting his “wheel legs.”
Eventually, I suggested he try out the rink. We went down to the far entrance and he stepped in. Clinging to the side, he dragged himself across the slippery floor along the entire front side of the rink, as I walked along the other side of the wall cheering him on. When we reached the point where he’d have to proceed on his own around the curve, he exited the rink, went back to the beginning and started again. I envisioned with dread an afternoon of pacing back and forth, but gamely went along, encouraging him on.
This time, instead of clinging to my hand at each open entrance to the rink (where there was no wall to protect him), he spread his arms like an airplane and struggled his way through, grabbing for the wall on the other side like a lifeline. His best friend came loping by on his locking wheels, enticing my son to go with him. Bravely, he followed his friend, leaving the security of Mom and the many exits from the rink to face the unknown of the rest of the floor.
I chatted with the other parents, always keeping my eyes on the bright orange shirt with the dinosaur on the front. I made sure to be there, hanging over the wall for high-fives every time he and his friend made it around the rink. My bum hurt with him every time I saw that orange shirt fall. My heart soared as his style improved.
He and his friend with the locking skates developed a rhythm as they circled the floor. His friend, always loping in that slow, easy-going style, would keep up a steady pace. My son would struggle to increase his speed and catch up to his friend, pass him, and then he’d lose his balance and fall right on his bottom. His friend would pass him as he got up and dusted himself off, and then it would start all over again.
When we arrived home from the party, my son couldn’t wait to tell my husband all about it. Stuttering in his excitement, he ejected his story without taking even a breath. “The floor was really big and slippery, and I was really afraid - but I hung onto the wall and then I didn’t hold on and I fell - but I got up and then I was going and I didn’t have to hang onto the wall so much - and then Scott passed me but he had the locked wheels so he didn’t have to try so hard but he couldn’t go fast - and I kept practicing and at the end I was going really fast - and I fell but its okay because I’ll get better and my butt didn’t hurt at all - so when can we go again?”
Sometimes, it takes a two and a half foot, forty-two pound five-year-old to teach a grown-up a lesson. I learned a number of lessons that day. During that roller-skating party, my son taught me that being afraid is no excuse for not doing what I really want to do. It’s okay to cling to the wall or someone’s hand at first, until you feel ready to branch out. Falling on your bum is okay, you will never improve if you don’t make the effort and get out of your comfort zone. You can take the easy way out by choosing safe vehicles that will get you where you want to go without falling, but they will prevent you from improving or reaching your full potential. In the long run, it’s better to take the challenge even if it won’t be as easy. Those are some mighty powerful lessons for a Saturday afternoon. And imagine: I got a slice of pizza and some birthday cake, too!
