Let The Games Begin

When The Boy was about 18 months old, we took him to a hockey game. I don't remember why we went that night, because we weren't big fans at the time. Little did we know how deep that little child would suck us into the sport.

One of his first words was "skate". I remember looking at him and asking, "Do you want to ice skate?" He nodded.

Not many people will work with a small toddler in that regard. By the time he had turned two, I was in touch with a female figure skating coach who said she'd take him out on the ice for a 20 minute session and evaluate her ability to work with him. Communication is difficult with a small child she said, and he needed to be able to understand her.

At two years old he was speaking in sentences.

She worked with him nearly every Sunday for a year.

Typically they don't accept children into organized hockey until they are five. The Boy has grown up at the rink, and he was allowed to be in the program this year. We figure at the very least it's two hours a week of ice time for the next five months, and hopefully he'll pick up the fundamentals as well as hone his skating skills.

Last night was his first practice. He was dog tired when we got home and barely made it through supper.

Everyone has high aspirations for their children. The Boy has aimed high on his own. He once asked me if we will come watch him when he's playing college hockey.

MFH laughed and said, "I'm pretty sure your mom will have an apartment wherever you are, son."