Oh, The Good Old Hockey Game...
You don't understand what it's like to be cursed with such awesomeness. You just don't understand how it feels to make magic with a floor hockey stick and know that you'll have no one to share the experience with, at least not on the level that you experience your own amazingness. Sure, there are people to play with, but they don't know what it's like to be you. It's a lonely Wednesday night when you're a three year old floor hockey phenom.
Of course, there's Daddy...and Mummy too, and Gramma's pretty good, I guess...but the real gauge of Zo's gymnasium heroics might be Randy, the owner of every floor hockey record in what used to be the old George Perry Elementary School gym. He's like the Gordie Howe of those hallowed halls, and Zo got to play a little puck with the Hall of Famer Wednesday night, in preparation for Hockey Day in Canada this week. It was one of those moments we'll tell her about when she's older but she just won't believe us. YOU played floor hockey with Randy Steinman. It's true.
Zo...Dad...Randy "top shelf" Steinman playing a little puck at the Y.
We must have run around for over an hour...passing, shooting, laughing, blasting pucks at Mom in goal. Before we knew it the clock read 8pm and we were scooting for the exits and home for bath time. It was an impromptu night of premature Hockey Day in Canada celebrations, but a fun night of running around like fools and laughing at the absurdity of three year olds and hockey sticks.
I bet you had less fun than us tonight. We rattled what could have been a quiet night right down to the ground. We got some exercise, giggled enough for two or three nights worth of fun, and somehow managed to drag Gramma and Randy away from their busy work schedule to swat around a little blue plastic ball, and degrade themselves with our version of nonsensical entertainment.