“Fall down, get up.”
Tiny hands on grimy floors, push the unstable weight of miniature bodies up, back into standing position. Wrapped in snow pants and padded coats, they toddle, a little too big compared to their normal girth. Their feet are adorned with thin, shiny weapons, a dangerous power for someone so young.
“These are blades. Keep your hands far from them. They will give you ouchies.”
The dangerous blades do their best to hold up little feet with wobbly ankles attached. They march, stomping as loud as they can, once confidence is found again. Walking on firm ground isn’t so tough, though hands grasp for hands larger and more experienced. Fingers that nearly grazed disaster when they were small envelop younger hands, sheathed in knit gloves. Hand in hand, they make it to the edge, the heavy door open and cold air biting any exposed piece of skin, waiting for them to take the first move.
“Okay, take one step onto the ice and then crawl on your knees over to the blue circle.”
The first few steps are shaky and scared. Tiny feet that haven’t faltered like this for at least two years, when their owners first learned how they’re supposed to be used. A swift slide onto hands and knees bring back the comforting crawl. All the way across the icy expanse. “It’s slippery!” they cry, and get into position around the circle.
“Remember how we got up? It’s the same here, let’s try it.”
A collective and slow rollover, each body a little apprehensive. The faces attached accurately portrayed the fear the rest of the body was feeling. Furrowed brows sheltered wide eyes, which sat above pudgy cheeks and pursed lips. Concentration brought them, after a few tries at least, back to their feet.