When one of the training wheels on my 5 year old boy’s little blue dirt-bike-style cycle feel off, I said to myself “Yup! it’s time for the universal father-son ritual. I take the other wheel off. Hold the seat firmly while he gets his little unsure butt on the seat. We take a couple of practice runs. I secretly let go off him and before he knows it, he’s riding a bike – without training wheels.
He remains eternally grateful.”
He was managing well enough with the single extra wheel so I didn’t think it was a huge hurry to get down to training day.
I opened the front door the other day and was startled by a streak of blue that whizzed past me.
Turns out the other wheel fell off too. And he just kept riding. The little bugger learned to ride on his own. And how! I didn’t know whether to be proud. Or to be angry. I guess I was both. Proud of him. Angry with myself.
Because once again I'd forgotten.
That life can’t wait.