Monkey Boy’s bike was in what used to be our patio when the tree fell and smashed it. He’s been begging for a new bike since then. This weekend, we took him to get a new one. He’s very excited because it has red wheels.
He was getting pretty good on the old bike, like he didn’t need the training wheels anymore. So when Baby Daddy assembled the new one, he left the training wheels off. They set off to the park that’s less than a block from our rent house. I declined the invitation to join them.
I have a nervous constitution about some things. This is one of them. I know intellectually he’s going to have wrecks and get hurt and it’s just fine. But I can’t watch. I would make everyone crazy by doing stuff like trying to drive the bike from 50 feet away. My arm motions would make me look like a particularly unskilled mime. My audible gasping at every wobble would just annoy everyone. So bike riding lessons are left to Baby Daddy.
They came back from the park fairly quickly. Monkey Boy was injured. Technically, it’s his first bike accident. He was pushing the bike, tripped, fell down and landed on it.
He is so thoroughly my kid. And the nature vs. nurture debate rages on…