Tonight we relived our eighties childhood at the local skating rink. Family Skate Night. It's a lot more fun than it sounds. Watching two boys trying not to break their ankles while hysterically giggling as they slip unsteadily is great therapy.
As we walked into the seventies/eighties time warp--complete with shag rug wall coverings that were probably older than I am and showed no evidence of ever being cleaned--the kids yelped excitedly.
"It smells like rotten cheese in here," quoth The Rationalist.
This didn't seem to actually bother him, but was merely an observation. I tried not to think about the fact that thousands of sweaty feet had been in my son's rented skates before he ever used them. They bore the same distressed patina of the wall coverings. I thought they might spontaneously disintegrate as he wobbled about. They didn't.
DH and I own roller blades. The Rationalist was given skates for his birthday. Intuitive Monkey was the only one left to strap on the beige boots with faded, pock-marked, orange wheels. He didn't seem to care, but later asked how much roller skates cost and if he had enough money saved up to buy some. I think I know what to get him when Christmas rolls around.
We skated. We Hokeyed our Pokeys. We fell. We had fun.
good times....good times
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