Monkey Boy was an adventurous child. He was always willing to try physical activities, even in a social setting that was difficult for him. He loved new physical challenges, if not new people and new places.
So, when he was invited to a skating birthday party in Kindergarten, I was hoping that his desire to try walking with wheels on his feet would counteract his desire to hide under my skirt around a throng of overzealous partygoers.
He began with skates that were tightened, so he could walk more than roll.
I was a pretty proud Mama, because most birthday parties were difficult for him, as he is such a creature of habit-familiar people, mixed with UN-familiar people, in an unfamiliar place---no bueno.
Imagine my surprise when he got out onto that wooden floor under the disco ball, and made his way around the rink! Over and over, he went round and round, til I had to get some "rolly-er" skates. Then, all hell broke loose. He was a boy on a mission, and no amount of motherly discomfort would dissuade him.
He fell, got back up. Fell, got back up. Fell, got back up. It got to the point that he practically bounced off the floor, back onto his wheeled feet, ready for more.
When we got home, covered with sweat, bruises and smiles, he went to use the bathroom. My husband asked, "Well, how did it go?"
My response: "What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in speed."
And it has been that way ever since.
I hope, for everyone's sake, he doesn't become a half-assed brain surgeon.
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