Ice Skating in Canada: Diary of a Three Year Old

Hello! Hello!

I am back!

Some of you may remember me from two years ago, when I used to post my ‘Diary of a One Year Old’. Life was exciting as I zoomed in and out of Dubai, Paris and Ivory Coast in Africa.

And then Canada happened!

That’s when I went AWOL.

What happened in short is… my Mom, Dad and I immigrated to Canada.

The long story is of course, much longer. But let it suffice to say that I got busy experiencing a whole new way of life and forgot to write about it.

Just the other day, a friend of mine heard about my diaries from earlier and said to me, “But why did you stop? Tell the world about your Canada journey!”

And so, here I am. Instead of going back into the past, I’ll jump straight in to my here and now. I’ll tell you what I did today. Because I am super excited about it and have to spill it all.

After two years of watching kids glide around on ice rinks (yes, that’s how long I’ve been in Canada!) and begging my parents to take me ice skating too, I finally got my first pair of ice skates this Christmas. I promptly fell ill a day or two after and now, more than a month later, my parents and I made it to the ice rink in the local community center today.

We got there early and I spent some time around the rink watching some older kids play hockey. It all looked super cool and easy and I was kicked about going in myself. At 4pm, the rink opened to the general public and I wore my snow pants, helmet and the precious ice-skates for the very first time. I was relieved when I didn’t topple right over and amazed that I could walk on flat ground on those thin blades. Mind you, I was still in the changing room at this time and had not even gotten on the ice.

My Dad, who had bravely offered to ‘teach’ me skating was wearing his own skates for the first time and was barely managing to stay vertical himself. Each of us grabbed on to Mom and made it to the edge of the ice rink. And that was when I had a nervous breakdown!

Dad got in and clung to the sides of the rink, swaying quite alarmingly. Mom had wisely decided not to go in at all. And there I was, lying down at the door of the rink, howling and refusing to step in. I could vaguely hear Mom alternating between, “It’s okay baby, you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” and “Baby, we are blocking the way, can you please let people pass.”

Dad gave up on me and decided to focus on getting his own gravity right. Mom helped me get upright and I managed to drape myself over the skate-support my parents had rented for me. From the edge of the rink, Mom and I watched kids and adults gliding gracefully over the ice as if they had been born on skates. After fifteen minutes, I decided I had better throw myself off the deep end or I would never get started.

“Mom, I want to lie down on the ice,” I announced bravely.

Mom looked skeptical, probably suspecting that I would get run over by people. But she let me go in on my belly. Once I started sliding around on the ice on my tummy (I was of course cushioned by layers of clothing), I realized it was all quite fun. Mom passed the skate-support inside and Dad hung on around me, while I skated on my knees!

Granted, no one else was skating on their fours there, but what the heck, it was my first day in and I was skating! I didn’t care what anyone else thought. It was super fun! I tried lifting myself with the support, but I swear every time I even thought of standing on my feet, it was like someone was pulling a carpet right from under my feet. The best part was, every time I turned around and saw my Mom, she was cheering me on as if I had just scored a tough goal, not as if I had just slipped right back on to my bum!

Thirty minutes later, Dad and I got out of the ice rink- exhausted, but feeling like we had climbed the Everest. I’m going back tomorrow and you know what, if you haven’t tried ice-skating before, don’t even think about it! Just go do it!

Don’t miss my adventures on a frozen lake in my post about A Journey Into Ice Age.