My seven-year-old, Xander, skates, and I’m sort of the reason why.
See, it’s like this: When I was in Jr. High, skater boys were my boys, and so naturally my son must follow.
This summer, I forced him onto wheels, byway of six weeks of skateboarding camp, all over the city
He’s adjusted and is doing just fine.
Ballet, was not a coercion exercise that went over so well (ballet-is-good-for-you-and-you’ll-thank-me-one-day-because-you’ll-be-surrounded-by females-that-you-can-throw-into-the-air).
So anyway, back to skating.
It would seem that I don’t quite fit in–I’m the mom at the skate park, which makes me feel sort of pathetically old. And, my presence could easily be construed to be creepy, as in cougar creepy.
So when I’m there, after I’ve folded and neatly put away my mom jeans, I make sure to yell lots of mother things about healthy snacks and being safe and such.
On occasion, I bring a camera (lie: I have a camera or two with me always, way down in the deep dark of saddle bag of a purse ), and when I do, I am hyper aware of the fact that my photographer-ness could very easily be confused with cougar on the prowl. A cougar with a camera is like a cougar with rabies.
So, I shout out all those mother things I mentioned earlier, and he calls me “Mama”, so all that seems to really help.
Anyway, I do enjoy a jaunt to the skate park.
This weekend, we were at Jefferson Park, on Beacon Hill, which happens to be my favorite spot because the views are redonkulous.
I was camera totting, but not my usual film camera.
I was in need a little instant gratification, so I went straight 21st century, digital.
Here’s what I saw.