Photo We Heart It
With the station wagon back in the shop again, Bob and I decided we would ride our bikes to pre-school in the morning. We were doing fine for the first half a block.
“Mom? I can’t do this anymore. My bike is tired.”
“You can do it, babe. Just keep moving.”
“I think you should push me.”
“I can’t push you. I have to ride my own bike.” We rode another block and stopped at the stop sign. “Okay let’s go.”
“It’s too bumpy right here. I’m scared.”
“You’re fine, Bob. Be brave.”
“I can’t be brave. I’m too scared.”
“Just keep moving. Being brave is being afraid and doing it anyway. You’re doing great.” As I quietly high fived myself for turning our bike ride into a “teachable moment,” I heard a crash and saw that The Brave One had fallen over in a driveway.
“Come on, honey. You’re okay. Now get back up on your bike, and you get to be… um… even more brave.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I don’t blame you.”
It was a long ride.