Silver Lining

The day before New Year's Eve my daycare went ice skating. I had never done this before, and as many of the children we brought glided out onto the ice, moving effortlessly with speed and grace, I held tightly to the wall, trying to walk, allowing myself to skate smoothly only for a few seconds at a time before losing my balance and lunging back to the wall.
"You're walking, Mr. E!" a girl told me. She and a friend skated over to help me.
"You have to push one leg forward, and then the other, like this." She demonstrated; kids love to demonstrate when giving instructions, partially I think because they don't know how to communicate clearly what they want for you to do, and partially because they enjoy the attention.
I tried to follow this kid's lead, but after slipping and falling several times I took a short break. A few minutes later I tried to skate again, hoping I could figure it out better on my own, only to find the same two girls skating up to me trying to help.
"Here, hold my hand. I'll hold you up."
"Gail, I weigh at least twice as much as you, I don't think you could do much to stop my fall."
"Really? Twice? I weigh seventy pounds."
"Oh, okay then, three times as much."
The girls silently did the math, and then looked at me wide-eyed, astonished that their svelte and handsome teacher was secretly so heavy.
"Don't worry Mr. E," one of them said, "it's a good thing. Someday, when you have a girlfriend, you can give her bear-hugs."