Skating

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We put the skates back under our shoes. It’s a bit reckless of us after pushing our muscles for an hour, but we’re only very big kids and can’t resist. Dad goes first, eager to demonstrate that he’s not as bad as he used to be.

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I don’t know about him, but I’ve certainly made progress.

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Feeling more confident than ever before on the rink.

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Maybe even confident enough to start trying some figures (I swear this is not a dab)

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Ouch. My pride is hurt, but the key is to just walk — or skate — it off.

Yoga

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At home, it’s only Dad and I again. Mom’s at work already, Cléo and Cyril at school.

At around 4PM, he knocks on the door of my poolhouse. “Wanna take a trip to the park? There’s a yoga class in an hour!”

So I drop the archeology tools, and we head to our favorite park in Willow Creek, and we get there just in time to change into sports clothes and hop onto the yoga mat. The day is overcast, but it isn’t supposed to rain for a while, so we can focus on our breathing and not our hair getting frizzy.

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Tree pose! I’m a swaying tree, but it’s my favorite.

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Two warriors in warrior II.

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And here we have the yoga instructor making the both of us look like potatoes. Dad fell on his back before he could even complete his wheel.

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We’re not the kind of family that gives up, so he puts his back back into it straight away, and curves it up.

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“Well done on not dying, dad!”

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“We’re the best.”

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“What say we run out of here before she convinces us to go for thirty more minutes?”

“Yep! Let’s go skating.”