The world's biggest water slide

(Manager, Napa DMV)

I'm sure that I have boasted here before about what an absolute natural Rhys was when he started riding a bike. Quite literally, from the moment he and the bike left my guiding hands, on his very first effort, he was riding as if by nature, doing circles surrounding in the parking lot, much to mine and his mother's amazement and joy. He had been practicing the peddling motion on a tricycle and the balance portion on a balancing bike, so everything just came together all at that single moment and he was unexpectedly able to ride. It seemed a miracle at that moment.

Over time he has become slowly emboldened at his riding powers. He is beginning to show resistance to mine and Rachel's parenting, doing things that the knows are a little bit dangerous. He is wanting, or perhaps needing, to show that he can do things of mild daring, while also providing some parental resistance. 

There are a few small hills in the area and we enjoy riding down them. We endure the walking up them (his legs are still young) because we know what pleasures they bring once coasting the other direction. Also, there is a place called La Michoacana at the top of the hill where they sell the most delicious Mexican vanilla and strawberry cheesecake ice creams, and coconut and pineapple, a strawberry and cream that's different than the cheesecake, and I also like the cookies and cream, and what seem like hundreds of other flavors.

We had gone there and were returning home with a pint of soft ice cream. 

There is one hill, just towards our houses where the bottom of the hill becomes a small intersection, where cars often turn to head back up the hill to leave the neighborhood. I have tried to emphasize that when riding down this hill we need to be on the right side of the road, otherwise cars can surprise us just by turning to leave the neighborhood, a perfectly normal thing for them to do. But without them knowing why not to turn they would confront us in a "head on" way. 

You know, the normal stuff you try to tell kids to keep them alive.

We were going down the hill yesterday when a car came up on us from behind. It was no emergency and the hill is relatively short, so this was all fine. But when I turned to look at him he was on the left side of the road. So I said, Over here, buddy. The next time I turned, only a couple seconds later, I saw the handlebars turned surprisingly outwards and  him going over the side of the bike and heading towards the pavement. I turned as quickly as I could and made my way back to him. He was on his feet already and the wails and tears had arrived before I did. I picked him up and brought him to the side of the road and pulled his bike out of the center. The guy drove by and gave a Sorry... look. I shook my head at him and mouthed that it wasn't his fault. I picked the boy up and held him, but like any parent my immediate interest was in assessing the damage as much as it was in consoling him.

He showed me a finger that was bleeding and indicated some pain on his back. I lifted his shirt. This would be his first case of real road rash. He had one abrasion that had already become the tell-tale red. The rest of his back had the signs of his 50 pound body scraping the pavement a bit, at what must have seemed like high speed to him. I held him for a bit, letting him know that he's okay, that he'll have a little bruise and soreness on his back for a few days, but that he'll be okay, that he was okay, that everybody has accidents on a bike every now and then.

By the time we got to mom's house, of course, the incident would require a team of neurosurgeons and a series of expensive MRIs and CT scans. For a mother there is no such thing as a mild external wound. Everything, it seems, bites and claws at the internal organs of their child. The only way to truly love your child is first to panic. Then, to sit in the emergency room for hours until they understand the lengths that you're willing to go through to orchestrate a medical response as a demonstration of your concern and love for them.

Well no, but there is some truth in that. Moms are famous for caring.

Competitive parenting is but one of the issues we now face as a society. You hear people talk of arrests being made because 12 year olds were playing at a public park unsupervised by their parents. Can you imagine the shock and horror and disgust one parent must experience at children playing safely and freely in their own neighborhoods. Some states have laws requiring an arrest any time they get these calls. Where would we be without regulations that empower the meddlesome tattle-tales of the cul-de-sac? These are people who are going to stomp out wrongs wherever they may find them. They are all universally against fascism, of course. They just happen to love the rules. 

Well, the boy just woke up and I tried to explain all of this to him. He said, No dad, my hair was in my way. I just couldn't see. 

So, there is that, also. 

Then he said, Daddy, I had a dream where you owned the Golden Gate Bridge. Everybody wanted to buy it from you, but you wanted to move it closer to home so we could play on it. I would have the coolest birthday party ever on it. It would be the world's biggest water slide. 

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