We barely missed the rain on the way home. A shower spattered my sunglasses while I biked to meet the boy at school; the rain held off while moms chatted and kids burned off some energy but dark clouds were rolling in. The boy took a different route home; I prefer the slow, gradual hill while he likes the steep one. He’s younger and faster, and when the garage door opened to show no bikes where I expected to see the smaller blue Trek mountain bike he rides, I knew something had gone wrong.
Off with the helmet, snag the car keys from the hooks by the door, into the car. I was half way down the driveway when he appeared in the rear view mirror, sweaty, shaky, in tears, and with a scrape on his knee. I got the story in between jerky sobs as I examined his knee.
“I did what you said, Mom. I got out of the street so I wouldn’t get run over, and I didn’t let the lady who stopped to help me bring me home because I can’t get in cars with strangers. I didn’t walk my bike, either. I got back on it because it was faster than walking. Can I do the ALS ice bucket challenge now?”
I had to laugh. He was fine, a little shaken up, but a more confident at the end of it. He’d been by himself, wiped out, picked himself up, made it home. That’s two damage-inflicting tumbles for us in eight days. Not bad. We’re taking knocks, but still in the game.
The clouds opened as we finished his ice bucket challenge, and rain soon pelted the ice cubes on the back patio. That seemed like too much fun to be missed.
Have a great weekend, everyone.