We All Fall Down

Two nights ago, Casey and I were riding bikes with our boys around the school and in our back alleys when Caden, my oldest, said he wanted to take his training wheels off.

I asked him if he was sure. He said, "Yes. I'm ready!" So we went back home and took them off.

He started out really unstable and shifting his weight from side to side while I held onto the back of his seat. After a few times around the drive he started to speed up, which made it very hard to keep up with him. Finally, he started heading toward the soccer field behind our house. I told him to stop because he was running out of road, but he just kept going. Down into the ditch and right out into the field. He joyfully screamed, "Im doing it!!!" He peddled about the width of our back yard, looked back at Casey and me, and then tumbled to the ground.

It was a glorious moment as he conquered the road only to crash and burn at the very end. He started crying because the bolts that held his training wheels scraped his shins. I remember those kind of scrapes. They sting!! But they don't seem to hurt as bad as our pride. He didn't like to wreck, but he kept getting back on and fighting.

Later, he asked if he could have his training wheels back on the bike. I told him no. He started whining and begging, but I told him that we don't go backward, but we keep getting on the bike even when it hurts. That wasn't what he wanted to hear at that moment, but the next day, he was so excited to go ride his bike and tell his grandma and grandpa what he had accomplished.