Tara Lipinski's Tu-tu

Ice skating kills your feet, and mine are in their death throes, but the rest of my body is more or less alive. Actually, skating (which I tellingly mistyped as "staking") wasn't as bad as I thought, although I did spend more time than I thought strictly necessary either a) flailing my arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright, or b) investigating the actual temperature of the ice at rather close range.

I did enjoy, however, watching the three- and four-year-olds attempt to skate. Their legs tended to do that newborn-horse-attempting-to-stand thing, where the knees lock and you think they've got it, but then everything sort of collapses and down they go. Skating—what a foreign concept: you learn to walk, which is hard enough, then you get running down, and then a couple of years later somebody straps quarter-inch blades to your feet and goes, "Hey, good luck!" and gives you a nice push. Those kids must think they're going to have to wear that white hockey helmet for the rest of their lives. Little do they know that bicycle-riding and driving a five-speed will make ice skating look...well, never mind. Life is cruel. Get used to it, kids!