My cat rocks (and skateboards!)

Our little Fernando is growing up very quickly. He's quadrupled in size since we got him, and his eyes have changed from blue to green. He's just as curious as the day we got him, but as he grows into a teenager, he's become super nosy and much, much naughtier.

And like most teenagers, he can't resist a skateboard. Mark set his out momentarily the other day, and Fernando immediately jumped aboard.

But Fernando didn't just want to sit there. He wanted that danged skateboard to roll!

 

Alas, he wasn't strong or heavy enough to get it going. I am, however, worried that day will soon come, and I will resort to dodging our little striped hell(cat) on wheels in the hallway. And I just know he won't be wearing a helmet.

Sigh...

A free $400 skateboard!

In my house, we have a time-honored tradition. At the beginning of each school year, I write out a check to Mark's school, and inform him that I am now exempt from any and all fundraisers.

If you don't have kids, let me explain. In order to raise sorely-needed funds, schools pimp out their kids to sell crappy stuff you don't need, like expensive wrapping paper or 5-gallon drums of cookie dough. Around Christmas, you can buy cheap trinkets or holiday meals; during all other holidays, you can buy candy; and during the spring, you can buy photos. There are also at least a couple "a-thons" during the year -- a jog-a-thon, a walk-a-thon, even a bunny hop. Those are the ones I can think of offhand.

And it's not just the schools -- if your kid plays sports or belong to Scouts, etc., they get another chance to ply your friends and relatives with unwanted stuff.

From a logical standpoint, I understand this. When the economy suffers, the schools suffer, and in turn, the students suffer. I realize that schools need to make up these funds somehow, but I'd rather opt out of selling and donate directly to the school, so they get 100% of the money, instead of just 10% from the stuff I never really wanted anyway.

But the companies working with the schools are savvy. They throw lavish assemblies for the kids, promising them iPods and video games, anything shiny with batteries that little kids drool over. The kids eat it up. I predict Mark's generation will grow into a pretty convincing sales force (who will be paid in iPods and cell phones instead of cash).

Yesterday Mark brought home a flyer for an upcoming jog-a-thon. He was brimming with excitement.

"Mom!" he shouted, jumping up and down. "If I collect $400 for the jog-a-thon, I can get a cool beach skateboard like Destiny has for FREE!"

"Not for free," I corrected him. "For $400."

"Whatever," he said. "That's what I want."

I reminded him Destiny's skateboard cost $250 (which until then, I'd considered expensive). I also reminded him that the $400 he "collected" would come from friends, family, or whomever else he hit up.

"You really think they want to donate money so you can buy a new skateboard?" I asked.

He nodded, but I could tell he was a bit doubtful. He hadn't thought about it like that.

"Don't you already have a skateboard?" I asked him. "In fact, don't you have two?"

"Yeah, but one needs new trucks, and the other one's too small," he said. "I need a better one."

"Sounds like you need to save your allowance, instead of hitting up your family," I answered.

He didn't like that one bit. He crumpled up the flyer and stomped off. I knew he was thinking evil thoughts and the phrase "meanest mom in the WORLD" flashed through his mind at least once.

It is my fault, though. He just couldn't sell the idea to me, which means he's not getting enough sales experience. Perhaps I really am hampering his growth, and his ability to compete with the highly competitive sales force of 2025.

But I can live with that.

I'm pretty sure that's NOT how Tony Hawk does it

Last Christmas, Santa brought Mark a skateboard. Mark was thrilled. He bragged about all the tricks he would do, throwing in lots of skater terms like "ollie" and "grind." He described the ramps he would conquer, and the jumps he would stick perfectly on the other side. And then he walked his new board outside and ever-so-tentatively scooted it very carefully across the patio.

That's about the extent of his riding so far. He walks his board to one end of the patio, climbs aboard, pushes twice with his foot, then glides four or five feet until the momentum dies. Then he turns around, and repeats it.

I've watched him do this for a couple months now. I've tried to encourage him, and to praise him on the rare occasion he's pushed himself more than twice. I finally realized the boy is never going to ride any farther without help.

So I did what I do best when Mark needs to learn something -- I got out my checkbook. I may not have the patience of a good teacher, but I'm a wizard when it comes to Googling stuff. I found and signed him up for lessons.

Mark was so excited for today's lesson that he woke up really early. He even got dressed before waking me up. That's right, the boy of a thousand skater t-shirts woke me up, and I was a little surprised to see him in jeans and his button-down dress shirt. Apparently, it was formal day at the skate park.

Today was his second lesson, and I think he really likes it so far. He complained about all the padding (knees, elbows, wrist guards) at first, but fell within the first 10 minutes, and never complained about it again.

The class is great so far. The teacher, Adam, sets up a course for the kids, with various sized ramps and even a couple rails. He shows them how to go up and down the ramp, then calls out for them to try.

There's one little kid in the class, Shaefer, who's just a demon. He's got to be at least 8 or 9 (the minimum age requirement) but he's so little he looks about 4 or 5. Shaefer's small, but fast. He raced up those ramps fearlessly. Half the time he made it, and the other half, he fell to the ground and rolled just as fearlessly. But he got up every time and raced back. It was pretty cool to watch.

My kid, on the other hand...let's just say he was more...um...analytical about it. He thought about riding his board as fast as Shaefer. He thought about making that jump, and turning a 180 like Shaefer. But then he watched Shaefer fall, and that ended the analysis.

Adam called for Mark to try the ramp. Mark walked across the concrete, carrying his skateboard, until Adam stopped him.

"No, Mark, RIDE the board!" Adam called out.

Mark stopped and put the board down, then carefully climbed onto it. He gave his usual push, and glided toward Adam, stopping about three feet away. He held out his arms to Adam, beseeching him to pull Mark up the ramp.

Adam called for Mark to kick more, to build up some speed. Mark pushed once more, glided two feet. It was as painful for the other parents watching as it was for me.

"Is that your son?" one woman asked and I actually hesitated before answering.

"Yes," I finally admitted. "This is his first lesson. Ever." I prayed silently that she didn't recognize me from last week's lesson.

"He's doing great," she assured me, about two seconds before Mark tripped over his skateboard (which he was carrying -- not riding!) and fell. I realized it might take more than five classes for Mark to become proficient.

But Adam, bless his heart, never gave up on the kids. He helped them up the ramps, and taught them to flip around on their boards. I admired his patience, and just as quickly questioned his sanity when he announced it was time to combine the ramps and the rails (long, thin metal poles he expected them to ride across).

So Mark collected his skateboard, walked to the other side of the skate park, and lined up for the rails. I mentally calculated the fastest route to the nearest ER.

"Kick, Mark, kick!" Adam yelled, as Mark glided toward him. "Build up your speed!" Then he walked over to where Mark had stopped, and pulled him up the ramp and over the rail.

For the last trick, Adam showed the kids how to ride up to the rail, and jump over it on their skateboards. Mark did not manage to jump over, or even clear the rail -- instead, he got his skateboard stuck on the rail, and fell over it.

Oh my god, he's sooo my kid, I thought, and shook my head sadly for him.

Thankfully, after 20 more minutes of free skating, Adam finally took pity on the parents and set us free. Shaefer flew off toward home on his skateboard, and Mark walked his over to me.

"That was fun!" he said, and I nodded. I would describe it more as amusing, but hey, fun works too!

And so young Tony Hawk Junior removed the protective gear, hitched up his skateboard, and carried it to the car.

Well, at least I won't need the ER, I I thought to myself. He certainly won't break any bones walking.