I cannot be the only one…who has watched their child heading for imminent disaster, opened your mouth to call out a warning to them, but knew perfectly well that fate’s plan was for them to fall. This was exactly the scenario Sonny Boy and I experienced on our precarious neighborhood walk to scope out Christmas lights yesterday afternoon.
Sonny Boy knows its all, he reminds me of this knowledge base of his on the regular, “Mom, I know not to run with my shoelaces untied,” or “Moooom, I know not to put my Power Rangers in the toilet, I don’t need you to tell me,” although, sometimes the situations can be more dangerous than these examples. As he was riding his bike, his training wheels rattling along and his bike bell ringing, Sonny Boy was looking everywhere but the road ahead of him. I called out to him to remind him to look where he is going, he didn’t hear me or more likely he thought he knew better, and started to speed right toward the curb and the street.
It was one of those moments, the kind of moments that I imagine an out of body experience would feel like, but instead of seeing myself from above I could see every possible outcome of Sonny Boy’s upcoming crash in my mind. The crash was slow, first tire off the curb, a hand stretched out to stop himself, a leg twisted around the bike frame, and as the bike finally hit the asphalt his helmeted head lying on the ground. He laid there, practically in the street, when he started the type of wailing cries that usually only come from something called a banshee, and then the imagining of the buckets of blood pouring from his scraped elbow came into the mix.
I picked that kid up, issued a mommy loves you hug, and practically threw him back on that bike, tears still flowing and all. I knew that after his fall from the bike if I didn't get him back on those two wheels it would be a long time before he felt confident enough to ride it again, so off I sent him pedaling down the sidewalk, while I lingered behind silently thanking the inventors of bike helmets for saving my Sonny Boy's head.