We called the Ice Capades when I was a child, the amazing spectacle of people, synchronized on ice.

I’d always wanted to go, but somehow never did even though I skated three times a week until I left home.

I remember watching on tv specials the miracle that was this dance show on ice; how they could sing and dance so gracefully in groups of up to one hundred.

As memories go, it’s up there with the Sunday movies from the fifties, with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I wanted to be them, back when I was nine or ten.

So today was a bit of nostalgia, wrapped in good intentions. We’ll create a new family tradition, I told my husband.

It’ll be great, you’ll see.

I’m not sure if the assurances were believed, by either of us.

But from the moment we arrived, the kids were captivated. There were a few rough patches, as the youngest had fallen asleep on the way, but overall, the majesty of the people skating on ice captured them the way it had me, all those years ago.

When the princesses came out, my five year old actually wept tears of joy, because “it’s so beautiful mom. I can’t help it.”

When the pyrotechniqes shot out, my six year old squealed with glee.

And when Elsa sang, my little man sang with her.

They all waved at the cast at the end, delighted to see their princesses and hero’s and Minnie and Mickey waving back.

It’s a particular kind of warmth that fills your heart when you see your children fall in love with your memories.

So maybe after all, this will be a holiday tradition we can keep.

Until next year!