Today Stitch and I went to the beach. We didn't talk about skating at all except to mention that he would have a quick choreography session with Coach tomorrow. He played in the sand for upwards of two hours, forgetting about the lunch we packed and just digging holes, playing in the water, being a kid. I read The Time Traveler's Wife and watched the people. City Beaches are always amusing.
Then I had a moment of terror. This beach often has glass in the sand. Stitch had kicked off his beach shoes and was running barefoot. BAREFOOT! Suddenly I was rehearsing the call I'd have to make to Coach... "Yeah, we can't make it, he was playing in the sand and stepped on a piece of glass.... Yes, I gave him beach shoes, but.... I know, I'm sorry... I'm an idiot... No, I don't know when it will be better. The doctor said six weeks, provided the gangrene clears up in a timely manner. It's pretty green now, but it's fading. More lime green than moldy green. The third metatarsal was nicked by the broken beer bottle, but it's more of a fine break than an actual fracture. Maybe he can get on practice ice. I'm not sure. It's not that swollen anymore..."
"Stitch! Put your shoes back on!"
"Because, there may be glass in the sand!" and I don't want Coach to yell at me.
"No there isn't!" he's looking around like I'm nuts.
"Just... put your shoes on. Because I said so." For pity's sake, I think you're an athlete now! Take care of yourself while you build your sand fortress and throw water at it!
No, he did not step on a piece of errant glass. About three hours later I decided it was time to go. "Come on, Stitch."
"Because you're gonna get a sunburn." I had sunblocked us both but that stuff has a time limit. And while Stitch endlessly whines about being roused out of bed before 6am for skating lessons or school, for some reason he had gotten up at 5:45 this morning for no reason at all. I knew he was gonna go downhill fast.
"No I WOOONNNN'T!"
"Yes. Time to go."
We packed up, stopped at the store for a soda, and headed home. Dad and Stitch played chess, and I am nursing a bad sunburn on my LEG of all places where I did not put sunblock. (Hey, my back and shoulders remain unscathed, my dermatologist will be happy. One little weird mole and they freak out on you.) As predicted, Stitch is crashing, yet claims that a stretching session outside will help revive him.
Tomorrow is choreography day, and if you see me splayed on the ice with my calf face down, it's because of the sunburn. Just go around me. Thanks.