"Trip" the Light Fantastic

Two things tonight:

First (Trip the Light Fantastic);
I know, it’s a dancing reference, but you have to know from whence I have just come. My boy, Christian, and I attended his school’s annual roller-skating party this evening. I skipped out on Men’s class at church so that I could enjoy this time with my son. I soon found myself inside my 42 year old body on roller blades making many left turns while weaving in and around a mass of very small bodies. The good news is I didn’t squish anyone. Actually, I didn’t fall down at all. Christian has only been on blades once before and the ones he had this time were brand-spanking-new. He is at the stage where he definitely wanted me there, and he wanted me to see him skate, but he didn’t really want me to be right beside him all the time. I’m alright with that. He hovered near the wall and worked out the newness of his wheels. He clomped around for a while and then as he got warmed up he started really doing well. I of course watched from a distance. With the knowledge that he didn’t want me right beside him, I did what any overly silly, wacky dad would do; I skated. The DJ played music more suited to my two youngest (girls) than me, (I’m referring to songs selected from the likes of “High School Musical Two”). Not once did I hear “Don’t Bring Me Down” or “Pin Ball Wizard” which were “hip” at the skating rink when I was much younger. Still, music aside, there I was wheeling around beneath a sparkling light ball that refuses to go out of style, enjoying the beat of whatever song was playing. I had found a time machine which took me back to when, as a child, I would go to our local rink for a skate-a-thon to raise money for some great cause that now slips my mind. We would skate all night long. I’ll not soon forget the blisters I earned while skating beneath an original version of the same sparkling light ball. Good times, good times.

Fortunately, today I have no blisters to speak of, but I do have good memories of the evening. At the end of the night when my feet were tired and Christian was “on a break” we played a rousing game of air hockey and a car driving game. Just then they announced “The Last Song” and my boy looked at me and said, “Come on Dad, let’s go skate.” And we skated; nothing fancy, just a dad and a son working their way around a slatted wooden floor together. He fell once and though every ounce of my daddyness wanted to help him up, I didn’t. I remembered 10 years prior, looking through a crack in the door at my small infant boy as he struggled to sit up in his crib. Every ounce of my daddyness wanted to go in and scoop him up kiss him and sit him up. I knew then that he had to work it out for himself, and I know the same thing now.

My prayer is that in 5 or 8 years from now when he has the opportunity to fall down on bigger ways, that I’ll have the same wisdom to help when I can but let go when I must. Father, help me be a good daddy!


Thing number the second (love pants);
One dad at the skating rink cruised the hardwood with his very small daughter. Almost everything was perfect. Having two little girls of my own, I could feel the specialness of the moment. The music playing, the lights working their glitter on the walls and floor, the tiny hand held within his safe fatherly grip. I am still touched by the scene as I type this blog post. Still, I did say “almost perfect” one glaring thing ruined this for me; one thing that I’d like to use this blog to rail against. This wonderful loving father who powerfully skated with his little girl protecting her from every fall, every encroaching little boy skating far too fast and far too reckless and every possible danger, this father had let his little angel wear a pair of pants with “Love” written across her bottom. While I appreciate he and his wife for wanting to advertise the loving spirit that this world needs so much to hear; I’d rather not see it written on a 5 year old girls back pockets. Please, please, please if you have a daughter of any age, don’t make her rump into a bulletin board. Please also, if you are a teen girl and you are reading this blog, please don’t wear pants, sweats or shorts (really anything) that places words on your buttocks. Boys will notice you well enough without you having to draw their attention by taking out an ad. There are far too many wacko people out there who can’t be trusted, and they are also looking.

I’d like to announce that I am now stepping down off my soap box. Tom