i'm still on about the skating

Most of that post about Mycroft's first lesson was actually about Sherlock, so: Mycroft let someone tell him what to do for an entire hour, which was enough to qualify the whole thing as a success for me. He's used to respecting (a very very few) people for their minds, but this is the first time I've seen him accept the idea that there's more to life than intellectual pursuits, let alone defer to someone else's non-academic experience (all right, except mine, but I think sometimes he views me as a necessary evil inflicted on him by his mum). [John, that's not true!] (All right, perhaps more of a necessary morally neutral obstacle to independence.) [...Yes. But. I like you too. I wouldn't want you to go anywhere.]


At that point, obviously, I had to go upstairs and hug him. And since he wouldn't quite let me say it then: I love you, kid.

As for the skating itself, I can't tell you much. It looked good to me? Very pretty. Spinning about in circles and so on. Going backward. He wasn't doing jumps yet, of course, but some of the girls were, and looked to be doing them well. Sow cows? I'm sure that's not how you spell them, but that's the way they sound. Mycroft's friend Myrtle was there [she is not my friend, I've only spoken to her three times]

...Mycroft's acquaintance Myrtle was there. I had forgotten exactly how pillar box red her hair is. (She was wearing violet instead of hot pink, thankfully.) She's a nice girl and asked about the Dogs of War and how Sherlock was doing. (You should invite her over some time, Mycroft, I know she's a bit older than you, but [NO.] ...Right then! Moving on.)

After the lesson, they all had hot chocolate together at the cafe while the parents collected bits and pieces of gear and younger children, or, in my case, chased Sherlock around and around the outside of the rink in hopes of wearing him out. Altogether very pleasant. We're going back next week.