A couple of Wednesdays ago, Rhett and I were driving to Scouts when he tells me that he'd like to play ice hockey. Uh, where did this come from, son?! I didn't know and I didn't care. He wanted to do something. Something that doesn't involve a book or a screen. DONE. Twelve hours later, I found an ice skating class. Twenty-four hours later, he was laced in ice skates for the first time and hitting the ice.
Is he good? Nope, but he's learning. In addition to class time, he gets additional free ice time each week, something we're definitely taking advantage of. (Which means either Chuck or I has to lace on skates too.) But he likes it. And he's sticking with it. And he's not freaking out when he falls. So...victory!
He'll do two sessions of ice skating classes and then he can start the hockey classes. Who knows. Maybe this summer he'll even do a hockey camp! Who is this kid?! (Equally valid question: Who are these parents carting their kid to weekly classes and summer camps?)