First of all, see my last post? What in the hell was I thinking when I signed up for Japanese? OMG I sat there with my tongue lolling in idiot land as the immersion course immersed right ahead without me. Lord Have Mercy.
On to a different subject. Walking in the park across from our new apartment, Raphael and I happened upon a group of teens practicing skateboard tricks on stone ramps behind the national Opera House.
Rapha motioned for us to sit so we did. We sat there for at least half an hour viewing assorted boys twist, jump, pause mid-air, contort and bank off stone benches. Some wiped out with such force that I groaned audibly, certain an elbow or arm had been broken. No one wore padding or helmets. Apparently uncool.
Rapha grinned. He was in child heaven. I want a skateboard for my birthday. Not a scooter. Don’t get me a scooter mom. Get me a skateboard.
Lord it has happened and he’s not even five.
When I was “can’t see your toes anymore” pregnant with him, I came upon a similar but more intense scenario in a San Francisco park: Boys of all ages amassed for an Extreme Sport biking competition. Kids were literally doing multiple flips and twists in the air on their BMX’s. I was terrified and asked a mother in the crowd how she could stomach watching her son compete. She said it wasn’t easy.
The San Fran kids had helmets and padding. Would it matter if they wiped out mid-air and landed straight on their heads?
Develop the feminine side, that’s what I say. What’s wrong with playing quietly with dolls or having tea parties? Hmmm?
My mom’s gonna kill me and then get onto the first flight out here. Don’t worry ma, Rapha isn’t trying on my dresses. Yet. (hee hee)