Justin had been asking for a skateboard for about three years, and I think we dismissed it (ignore might be a better word) for as long as we could. But finally, this past December, he took everything else off his Christmas list and said that a skateboard was the single solitary thing he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. So what do you do with that? After a 3 year wait, he turned the tables and backed us into a corner; and suddenly there was nothing else we could do. He was 3 years older, 6 inches taller, and drooling from both sides of this mouth at the thought of getting this skateboard. So we did it. We caved. We got the boy a skateboard. And knee pads. And elbow pads. And a new helmet. And we look away. And cringed. And doubled our health insurance premiums and started making down payments on a leg cast.
But then a funny thing happened. Our least coordinated child shocked the world, took the nation's third most dangerous toy (as judged by to the number of emergency room visits per capita, surpassed by only darts and trampolines)... and actually got good at it. In just a week. I looked up the other day and had to do a double take once I realized that, "this boy's got tricks!". Who knew? Well, I guess he did. Three years ago. Go figure.
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