Malcolm had a terrible spill on his bike today. I warned him about the upcoming hill, I cautioned him on how to slow down if he got going too fast. When he lost control I was too far away to help him and he zoomed down the sidewalk, swerving back and forth, yelling for me. He hit the curb and flew into the street, about 6 feet, slamming his helmet to the ground very hard. He cried for an hour afterward. I’m disturbed by my failure of judgment and grateful for the minimal consequences. He’s ok now and eager to get back out there on his bike. And I’ll never be dismissive of the value of helmets.
I watched Malcolm walk up to a man reading to his daughter in the play area at Vios tonight, looking over his shoulder to see the book too. The man turned to Malcolm like, “hey there little guy…” As soon as he did so, Malcolm sprayed a big juicy sneeze into his face then turned and walked away. The guy, of course, laughed it off with another parent who saw it, wiped his face with his sleeve (a lot), and continued reading.
It’s just one of those things where you have no say, no control, no lesson to teach or learn, and the everlasting burden of having watched it happen.