I always liked roller skating as a kid, but didn't really get into it until middle school, when I adopted inline skating for the express purpose of impressing a boy. (There are much worse ways to impress boys.)

We played roller hockey with some band kids a handful of times that summer, once even managing to get kicked off the parking lot of the Missionary Baptist church. As far as I'm concerned, roller hockey is in the highest category of fun things to do, along with jet skiing, high jumping, and kayaking.

I'm still kicking myself for failing to rollerblade at the beach nore often when we lived in California.

Juliette's big Christmas gift last year was roller skates. She was so happy when she opened them up, even though she couldn't immediately try them out. We finally tracked down a set of pads in her size when the weather warmed up.

I came home from work a couple weeks ago to this:

The first day, she mostly just walked around in the skates. And fell a lot. As was to be expected. It looks like she's doing some snazzy trick here. Nope: falling.

In a testament to both the quality of her pads and the toughness of her spirit, she was not the least bit phased by all the falling.  

She started to get the hang of it the weekend before last, when I was able to get my skates on and show her the ropes. Er, rolls.

Yesterday things really started to pick up.

We had loads of fun.

I am totally in my element on a pair of skates. (That said, I doubt I will ever relearn the jumping spin tricks I used to do when I was fourteen.)

Delightfully, Juliette is totally in her element, too.

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