The Boy's school has a roller skating party practically every month. Yes, I know you're jealous, wishing you, too, could spend two hours on a Monday evening sitting on the same red carpeted mushroom benches that have been there since "Grease" was a new hit movie, watching shaggy-haired sweaty 12-year old boys try to do skateboarding tricks on their inline skates.
Green with envy - I see you.
But the Boy, who begged for rollerblades last year and dutifully practiced, can really skate by himself. He hardly falls, and he gets right back up.
And they play YMCA, Journey, Queen, and tonight - Corey Hart songs. (Mom, remember taking me to the concert in 8th grade? Thanks again)
So basically, I love it, except for the newer music, which scares me. Also, the big kids scare me. I seriously have to avert my eyes so that I don't imagine The Boy's face under one of those shaggy greasy hairdos, with those saggy pants and "I wish I was a real tough guy" look. Don't even get me started on the 3rd grade girls with the tight jeans and inappropriate t-shirts.
I wish I had pictures, but I would definitely be "that mom who embarrasses her kid" if I took any photos. Who am I kidding, I'm going to be her anyway. Next month - PHOTOS!
Part II of Skater Boy will deal with the slight heartbreak I experience watching him try to navigate sliding onto the bench from a full skate, to keep up with a faster 1st grade friend, and being disappointed that most of his friends weren't there tonight because they had basketball practice. The basketball team that we decided NOT to have him join.