Growing up in Florida I didn't have much exposure to ice skating. There were a few rinks within driving distance but not really close and not a place kids typically went for fun.
Raising my children in the Chicago suburbs means there is a lot more exposure to cold, cold weather, hockey and it seems ice rinks.
One of our friends was nice enough to offer to give Carter and Evie their first ice skating lesson. She took the two as well as two other children onto the ice after some pre-skating tips: they were going to fall, this is how you fall the right way, this is how you get up the right way, this is how you "march" on your skates and this is how you balance.
The kids all understood the instructions but the next 30 or so minutes played out very differently. Both Carter and Evie had the same number of falls and successes but after a good 15 minutes Carter was on a bleacher next to me following a crying fit on the ice. Another 20 minutes later Evie didn't want to leave the ice.
She wants to take lessons and skate, skate, skate. Carter was tight-lipped about his skating future but said later in the day that he would try 10 more lessons. That's compared to "three years" of lessons for Evie but still pretty good to hear after how upset he was just hours before.
I don't blame Carter. The first time I tried to ice skate around the age of 13 I fell and hit my knee and was done. I mean done. He fell a few dozen more times than I did before being overwhelmed and is likely going to try it again. I'm not going back on the ice I tell you.
Also, watching your kids fall and bite it on the ice without being there to help them up is brutal.