For the past year and a half I and many other parents have all bidden our children, "Do NOT run up and down the stairs!" We usually do this in loud voices and admonish them with tales of newly brain damaged kids who ran and fell down the aforementioned stairs. Every time I see one of those bigger Skaters running up and down the stairs to warm up, I cringe and pray that they don't trip and fall. Even I can't make it down the stairs without careening every so often.
Yesterday, (and this is told through Grandma, I wasn't there) Stitch became one of those kids. Coach apparently had him run the stairs, jump the stairs, jump some of the stairs on one foot, and then do push-ups. He has been directed to do this, and "practice his jumps" every time before he skates. "She says we have to get there early and do this," says Grandma.
Great, I will buy him a bubble wrap suit and a helmet. I hate those friggin' stairs.
"Oh, and Coach is a year younger than me," says Grandma.
"I knew she was older, but she sure as hell carries it well," I said, making dinner. Grandma has some issues, including bad knees and age denial. We joke about it constantly.
"Yes. She told me. Then she told me I had to be in shape, because I had a young grandson." Grandma was not amused by this remark.
I laughed for five minutes solid. When I dried my tears I returned to stirring chicken. "Well, you could walk more."
Grandma told me about the workout, the skating, how she had to traverse the stairs once for a moves ticket which I was unaware of and again for music. I didn't think they were going to do the program, but whatever. "Oh, and Coach yelled at the people in the booth."
"The ice monitors? Why? What were they doing?" Oh god, I miss everything good.
"They didn't see Stitch wave. They were too busy talking."
"Yeah, that's lame."
"Then they didn't see Coach wave."
"So she yells, 'WOMEN! STOP TALKING!'"
Again, I collapse in hysterics.
Grandma keeps going. "And then some other lady walks right up to me and demands to know who I'm with."
"I point to Stitch and suddenly she's real nice. She says, 'Oh! He's good! How long has he been skating?' and I tell her about a year and she doesn't believe me. But she seems to know him."
Damn, I'd give money to know who she was talking to. "Well, that was nice of her to say."
"That place is crazy."
"Just a bit."
That was just her first day at the rink, and Stitch's first day of actual conditioning. Apparently they came home and collapsed into word puzzles for the afternoon, exhausted. The two of them may have some really good stories by the end of the month.