So, just what happened last week?

Yesterday I spent most of the day in a hot and dirty little room, examining and marveling over old theatre parts, debating why the proscenium arch is starting to drop (it's 100 year old building), and how I can go about repairing and freshening drapes and drops next week. Hope Johnny Weir (the sewing machine) likes muslin, Red Velvet and commando cloth. The 100 Year Gala is in October, and I'm not sure what management's plans are for this event, since management is still in flux. (We're still burying valuable goods in trash before we leave, to hide them from Old Management. He's already sold one of the theatre's original spotlights, so we hid the second in a secret location. The other old spot is probably too big for him to take, she's the Original Big Bertha.)

I came home, took a shower, and went to settle some business at the rink and go skating. It's cool, quiet, and I need to ask what happened to Other Kid. Rink Informant was there, and I waited a good hour before asking the big question. "So, did they get sick or something?"

"No," said Rink Informant. "He said they just canceled it for him."

Let's review that statement. They: "They" must mean his coaches. Why would they do this? For whatever others were saying, they and Other Kid were practicing that program with all the gusto of a normal skating kid. When Other Kid flew into the boards backwards, they treated it like it was normal. When he fell, Coach said, "He bounces," and never seemed to note that he fell a lot more than the other skaters. Did they suddenly see what I, and others, were seeing?

Just Canceled. This is huge. "Just Canceled?" You don't "just cancel" a show! And not at the last minute! That Saturday night, we all left and said, "See you tomorrow!" and they said "See you tomorrow!" So when did they get the call saying not to compete? Sunday morning? How heartbreaking for Other Kid, who (for all his difficulties) really was trying his best. He'd just been crippled by being skipped up so fast. This part makes me sad, which leads me into the next part.

For Him: Dad and I have talked about Other Kid. We don't like the way he talked down to Stitch about being at a higher level. It made Stitch angry and confused, because Stitch is a miles better skater. And please don't accuse me of not liking kids who can't skate, I can't tell you how many little nonskating kids I help out and encourage at the Public Sessions. Beyond my ability to avoid my toepicks like the Sudden Death they are, I can't skate either. But I don't go around mocking those who do trip on their toepicks. I don't give a whit about skating ability, I don't like kids who mistreat other kids on baseless accusations. And others tell me that Other Kid is actually really nice and sweet and funny when he's not talking about skating. I'm sure he is, but when I get him, he's quizzing me about what Stitch is learning, and how he can "already do that, that's for kids" and how he's "learning a Salchow, does Stitch even know what that is yet? I'm learning faster than he is!"

I honestly want to shake him by the shoulders and scream, "It's not a race! For pity's sake, if you'd just slow down, you'd be so much better!"

But I don't. I smile and nod and try and change the subject, and Stitch has started to avoid him. Which is sad, because the Boys really do need to stick together.

So, Other Kid's coaches at some point decided that Other Kid shouldn't compete. If I were Other Kid's mom, I'd be in their face demanding WHY, and why they would allow or encourage my kid to learn a program and sign up for a comp, only to have them say, "yeah, no" at the last second. In fact, I'd be furious, because at that point I would have paid my non-refundable entry fee, hours and hours of ice time and the extra lessons. Not to mention the time I'd spent at the rink. I'd tell them they can deduct that entry fee from their coaching fees for the next however long it takes to pay that off, and absolutely no more rehashes of this event if I stayed with them at all. Just thinking about it makes my hair stand up. Glad it's not me, but it's someone.

At any rate, last night I just stroked around, enjoying the cool and the camaraderie. I counted spins for Awesome Guy, who's getting to ten or eleven revolutions with much more comfort and ease now. I told him he's looking much better on his spins, maybe he should try crossing his feet someday, and I encouraged him to reach both his toes on his stretching. I guess I have to be Skate Mom for someone while Stitch is gone.