I learned how to ride a bike when I was 6 years old.
My dad set me a top of a hill on my little yellow bike and let me go. No helmet. No knee or arm pads. I made it all the way down the little hill and through my front lawn, through the thick bushes in front of my little house…and directly into the siding. It hurt.
But from then on I was a bike rider.
We’ve been working for a little while with my little guy.
There are things as a parent that you know that your children will learn how to do. Walking, talking, eating. There are other things, that sometimes, you don’t know if they will ever learn.
Bike riding was one of these things for us.
There are also pivotal pictures and memories that a person will forever have engrained their minds. Little glimpses and flashes that will never be forgotten. The first day of kindergarten. Holding your highschool diploma. Watching your parents walk away when they leave you at college. Your baby’s first breath. They are glimpses.
Today, I will always have this glimpse in my memory. The sight of my son throwing his bike on the ground and walking over to the bleachers opposite of where I was sitting. And crying. And sobbing. Frustrated. Mad. Embarrassed. Sitting there on opposites sides not knowing what to do next or if we should even continue this bike riding crap. Ordinarily my son would have been in big, bad trouble for such a fit… but a fit at himself is so much more painful to watch than a fit at me. I couldn’t be mad at him for that. I know I will picture myself walking over to him, for many many years, sitting down and wiping his tears asking “what is the hardest part about this?”
“I just can’t find my balance mom, it’s just so hard.”
15 minutes later
I cheered louder than I have ever cheered.
I even teared up a bit.
It was one of the most awesome sights I’ve ever seen. Because you can’t hold on to them and run with them forever.
You have to let go. Let them find their balance on their own. In their own way.
And then when they do.
You eat ice cream!
Song: Now We Ride, Hans Zimmer