Monday, April 30, 2012
The other day, Derek was gone with Spencer, the babies were in bed, and I was working in the house. Henry came in and announced, "Mom, the show is going to start in two minutes." Approximately 39 seconds later, he returned and told me to come on out.
So, out I went. I found the step ladder set up to house my bum, and a glass of juice as refreshment. I sipped my juice and watched my boy ride around and around in circles.
Maybe it isn't much to some, but this boy taught himself to ride a bike. No, "taught himself" implies he had something to learn. I say nay. He wanted nothing to do with me or his father holding onto the seat.
We handed him a bike. And a helmet. He never learned. He was never taught. Henry climbed on his bike, wobbled a bit and was off.
And now he tears around like a CRAZY person.
It makes my heart pound to watch him. We go over to the church around the corner for some good, open space to ride and a large portion of it is a hill. He rides up as fast as he can, then he FLIES down it.
I didn't know there were kids who didn't need lessons in riding a two-wheeler. But Henry has taught this to me.
There he goes again, surprising (and terrifying) me again.