After we went ice-skating yesterday; just the me, Grumpy and the two big ones – Chippie had a childcare day, so we made the most of it.
A twinge of guilt at leaving him behind, followed by immense relief and acknowledgement of a great decision made when witnessing Another Mother who felt taking a 2-3 year old ice-skating was either a) a good idea, b) thought it was essential for the emotional and physical wellbeing of said toddler, c) felt guitly about leaving her toddler in the care of someone else whilst she went ice-skating with said toddler’s older sibling/s or d) was, perhaps, fatigued and not thinking straight. I know that feeling.
I did note that after she managed to drag the toddler 3 feet across the ice, using highly motivational words and loads of positive reinforcement – because that’s what you’re “supposed” to do, right? – a look came over her face that had me thinking she was seriously considering pushing the child under the next giant snowball making it’s way around the rink. Or, perhaps dumping her against the barrier and heading off to enjoy herself, like I’m sure she did back in the late 1980s. Didn’t we all?
No, Chippie coming was not a good idea.
We did several laps, my kids being ok enough to hang off the wall and work their way around the rink on their own for a lap, then hold our hands for the next. After which, I heard the announcement for “Free 15 minute lessons” and highly encouraged them to go and participate. Like, NOW, go, please, I think it’ll be really good fun, and um … yeah, yeah, it’ll help you today and you might learn some good stuff and it’ll make it more fun and pleeeaaaasseeee, I’m begging you, just go have lessons … and various other motivational talk and positive speak.
I, personally, didn’t want to participate. Not that I didn’t need lessons. I can ice-skate. I was of the era when everyone took up recreational roller skating before they started school, so I have the fundamentals. I am able to stand up and get around the rink of my own accord.
I only fall over with the aid and assistance of others.
So, having a lesson perhaps wasn’t essential, but would have been helpful. I just wanted a couple of goes around the rink, on my own, reliving my youth and enjoying myself like I did back in the late ’80s …
Godzilla cried the whole way through the lessons, came back onto the rink and managed to work his way around it a few times, on his feet for every time and saying “That was fun” when we left.
Arrive home, Monkey Boy has been invited for a sleepover, he is picked up 13 minutes later (methinks Another Mum was also being nagged into insanity) I am asked when I want him back, I say “three years” and she says “Wednesday”. Which is still two nights away. Ok then, if you’re insane enough to suggest it, who am I to argue?
Leaving a bored Godzilla who nags me into playing Monopoly Junior, which is not my favourite, but ok.
Which is when I recall why I don’t like playing this, or most other board games. Or Bored Games as we refer to them in this house.
Is it just me or does Monopoly Junion never end??? It seems that when you’re down to your last dollar, you land on something that gives you back squillions, or someone lands on your house-thing, or you score …. something!
And so it continues …
We left it last night, with the “we’ll finish it tomorrow” promise. I had nightmares about being stuck in the game for the next 80 years … that and Chippie waking through the night (again) lead me to agree to a re-start of the game when Chippie drove a train across the board (bored) scattering booths and plastic cars and money and Chance cards across the room …
Help me ….