Thursday, January 5, 2017

We Also Went to the Coffee Shop

Adelaide received roller blades for Christmas.  She previously did not own any, but had used my old pair over the summer, back and forth on our sidewalk.  There was a lot of squealing, and arms windmilling as she fought for balance, and yelling at any brother who came within two feet of her whilst rolling.  Her brain interpreted this as fun, and luckily for her her grandparents came through.

A couple days after Christmas we enjoyed some unseasonably warm weather- we're talking highs in the 40's, the kind of temperatures that pull roller blading mothers and daughters out of doors to take their questionable ability to balance on wheels out to public places, where the promise of being humiliated not just in front of our neighbors, as we're used to, but by scores of strangers, proved too enticing to be ignored.  Simply translated:  Adelaide and I went to a park.  We brought our roller blades.
 After donning our blades (by how many points, I wonder, does my coolness factor drop when I refer to them as 'blades'?  I've been in the red for so long I suppose it doesn't matter, as is evidenced by my unironic use of the term 'coolness factor.'  Maybe we'll just go with inline skates.) Adelaide wasted no time in pointing out how pretty her skates were compared to mine, and how quiet, and how none of her plastic straps were broken.  I told her none of those things really mattered when I was the one who wasn't afraid to use both feet while skating- there at first she kept one foot firmly planted and just pushed herself along with the other foot, like a skateboarding trainee.  All my taunting/instruction ("pick up your left foot, Daughter- your LEFT FOOT, pick it up!") kind of fell apart right about the same time my roller blades did, though.

I kept stumbling and couldn't figure out why things kept getting stuck in my wheels, but as it turned out, it was the outer black layer of the wheels themselves peeling off and exposing the ridged inner white part.  My skates were literally falling to pieces around my feet.
Really, though, who could have seen this coming?  I mean, I've skated miles on these wheels, they're twenty years old and have been just fine up 'til now (except for that broken ankle strap, of course).  So... me.  I should have known better than to skate on twenty-year-old cheap plastic roller blades.

Thankfully, a quarter mile walk back to the van in socks really drove that lesson home.  Either that, or it was Adelaide cackling as all the international students from Iowa State politely averted their eyes and tried to hide their smiles as we passed them.
"Well, just imagine what we look like, Mom!  The young, graceful girl gliding along on her new roller blades, the middle aged woman carrying her roller blades next to her daughter.  You know it looks like you just can't roller blade and got tired of trying, right?"  I told her that if I'm truly middle-aged, then it looks like I'm only living to the age of 68, and NOW DON'T YOU FEEL BAD FOR WISHING AN EARLY DEATH ON YOUR MOTHER?

Judging by her lack of reaction, I need to be a little more selective about when and how often to employ my special brand of motherly histrionics.

Adelaide on roller blades, communing with geese. 

My chosen method of revenge was to drag her along to Target to look at their newly-clearanced Christmas decorations.  Judging by the amount of feet-dragging she did down those 70% off aisles, my retaliation scored a direct hit.

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