Tuesday, March 10, 2009

And away she goes...

Oh the concentration!

This past Sunday saw a big event in our family. Our little 5 year old girl, Lauren, learned to ride her bike without training wheels. We tried this about a year ago, but she just could not quite get it. This time, off she went and never looked back.

She jumped on, and off she went. Of course there were some tough moments. She had a difficult time learning to turn. Mail boxes, trees, bushes, the occasional parked car all presented challenges-and at times targets. With a little steadying from Dad, and a little encouragement from Amy and Andrew, she got it. Each day since she has ridden more to practice and the improvement is drastic.

Think back to when you were a child. When we start school, we think we have arrived. We think we are finally a "big kid." That said, the biggest moment of our childhood is when the training wheels come off. When we ride with training wheels everyone on the street can hear us coming. There is no way to sneak up on anyone. Those things are loud. The removal of the training wheels opens up a new world. We can ride quietly, can go over hills and through fields. We can learn to do wheelies, jumps, and occasionally win a race. We can feel the wind and experience true freedom.

Inevitably, we fall. Tonight Lauren got a little ambitious. She went up the only hill on our street. Coming down, she got a little wobbly and experienced a crash. Now she has a little "road rash." We think she will live. She is doubtful about that. We know she is tough and will get back on the bike, learn her lesson (hopefully) and ride better next time. Riding a bike is a reflection of life. We learn, fall, get back on and get better. We ride faster, slower, more daring, wreck, but do better next time.

I saw something else when she rode off: I saw the future. Someday, all too soon, she won't want her dad to steady her. She will go off to high school, college and the rest of her life. She is the perfect age right now-full of wonder and zest for life. Lauren is a good girl, smart and frequently laughing. She never meets a stranger and is full of confidence.

My little girl is growing up. I won't be one of those hovering helicopter parents. Those folks really are doing no good for their children. I want my kids to know I am there for them, yet I refuse to be the over protective nightmares we hear about in the news. Just because she is growing up does not mean I have to like it. Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering what will happen with my kids. I am so proud of each of them. They truly are a blessing.

Someday Lauren may look back at this post and be embarrassed. I won't apologize for telling her how proud I am of her. All too soon she will be gone. I want her to have the confidence to face the world and make her place. I just want her to know I will always be willing to steady when she wants it.

Really, there is something in my eye.

Look at her go!

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