If you’re ever wondering if there are ice skates small enough for a 16-month old toddler, the answer is, Yes.
And if you’re ever wondering if those skates are tiny and adorable, the answer is, Yes.
And if you’re ever wondering if you’ll can skate around the rink, doubled over so far you could touch your toes, but instead of doing that, you’re trying to hold up a 25-pound child whose wearing so many layers of nylon winter clothes that keeping her head from cracking on the ice is akin to holding onto a greased badger while balancing yourself on knife blades, the best answer might be, I’ll sit here and watch you two skate around.
We’d have pictures of skating at the National Art Gallery Sculpture Garden, but we had our hands full, literally and figuratively.
But the kids had a blast, so the feeling that my back was beaten with a bat and hamstrings that are as tight as harp strings…it’s all worth it.
Or maybe that’s just my memory of going to the diner afterward, where we all had breakfast for dinner, followed up with pie.
Papa Bradstein is … what’s that? Pie? Mmm. Pie.
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