“MOM!  DAD! I’m ready to take my training wheels off!”

I was not ready to hear that.  Noah, however, was apparently, ready to do it.

While I was still sifting through my emotions, my husband sprang into action.  He grabbed his toolbox and headed outside, funny how Dad’s approach these things differently than moms…..

As the shock wore off, I decided I better grab my own toolbox: AKA: the first aid kit.  While they were happily removing training wheels, preparing for a celebration, I prepared for potential disaster. I did a quick first aid kit inventory check: Band-aids? Check. Neosporin? Check.  Butterfly closures?  Check. Emergency phone numbers?  On speed dial.  Defibrillator? (for me, not Noah.) Check. (Ok, maybe not an actual defibrilliator.. but I did wonder if I would need one.. my heart was pounding!)

“Hurry up Mommy, we’re ready!” Noah yelled, from the front porch.

“But, I’m not.” I replied under my breath.

As I slowly (Why yes, I was stalling, you noticed that?.) put on my shoes, I envisioned all the things that could happen: broken bones, concussions, bruises, lacerations…..

I swallowed hard, trying to shove the fear back where it came from. I reminded myself:  “It’s a rite of passage… he’s ready. The older boys learned, he will too.

I’d stalled as long as I could.  I went outside.  I saw Noah’s face. He was lit up like a Christmas tree.  He was excited and mostly likely a bit afraid. He (and his dad) glowed.

I smiled.

I watched him tighten his helmet like a Wright brother preparing for take-off.

I watched his dad, steady the red “Lightening McQueen”  bike  as he climbed up onto the seat.

I watched my husband start to run along side of him gently pushing the bike.

I watched Noah start to pedal.

The bike wobbled.

“You can do it!” his daddy encouraged.

Their faces glowed with excitement and fear.

Noah pedaled harder, he countered the wobbles with his weight, he was learning to balance. (more…)