Biker

The last couple of weeks, Mazin has loved riding his strider bike--a bike without pedals that teaches balance. It's one of the best kid inventions out there, I think, although I'm sure parents were removing pedals from normal bikes long before anyone thought of selling them that way. It is so much fun to watch him coast down a hill without putting his feet down once, or glide along on level ground. It's a bit less fun to watch him speed down our steep, gravel driveway and skid to a stop inches before the raspberry bushes. (I make him wear clothes when he does that, by the way.) I actually almost can't watch, because I don't want to see him fall. But I also don't stop him from doing it, because he started slow and worked his way to the top of the driveway as he gained ability and confidence. He worked up to it, and I think he has a good sense of his limits. He will actually drag his feet on the ground to slow himself a bit if he gets going too fast. I just tell myself that the worst that could happen is a nasty elbow road rash--and what kid doesn't earn one of those at some point? I love that he is developing confidence and skill, and I don't want to take that away by prohibiting something that obviously gives him such joy. It is very important to him that I watch each time he does his daredevil stunt. "Watch me, mama!" I wonder where this desire to be witnessed comes from. It is such a common kid thing. I suppose we all want to be noticed and appreciated--it's just a humanoid thing. Maybe he also likes the series of expressions on my face: fear, amusement, worry, pride--all exhibited within the five seconds it takes him to fly down the hill.