Bike ride thoughts

Z decided she wanted to ride her bike tonight. She rarely does, so I helped her get her shoes and helmet on quickly and we started out.

I had to remind her a couple times to let go of me and hold the handlebars. Then I reminded her to try to keep them straight, facing forward. I encouraged. "We've gone two whole houses!"

As we neared the corner, she actually picked up steam. She wasn't grabbing for me. I encouraged a little more, but mostly shut up and helped her around the corner. She told me, "I am trusting myself to be a good bike rider. I trust myself to go around the block. I believe in myself, and I'm proud." I said, "Your brain is giving you exactly the right messages right now. I like who you are."

She went around the next corner without help. She decided on her new cycling nickname: Speedy Z. She said she was going to be much braver and faster than the other kids who ride bicycles.

Then she fell. I had been walking in front of her, backwards, to keep her focused on heading straight. It was working, but she just leaned a little far, and then I wasn't right there to catch her. She howled.

So I kissed her knee and her elbow and her finger, and I told her she was brave, and that the way to REALLY get back at that mean old bicycle would be to hop right back on and ride it all the way home. She yelled at the bike for a minute first, shaking her finger in the general direction of the handlebars and saying "I'm really mad at you!" Then I promised her band-aids and no washing, and we started again. I heard her murmuring "I think I can, I think I can."

She said "I am making a DETERMINED face." I backed a little further away to see it better. Then she added, "I blew the bad and sad feelings out and breathed the good and happy feelings in, and now I'm better." I said, "You're really tough. That was a good way to handle it."

She made it around the corner of the busy street by herself, too. And by the next corner, we weren't even talking about bikes. She was pretending her little sister, named Iloveyouverymuch, was along with us on her tricycle. And then we saw the neighbor boy she has declared is her best friend, and she rode all the way to him as he rode to her. Luckily, at least he knows how to brake. And there we were -- all the way around the block, back at the beginning, back at home. And even more than her awesome bike-riding skills, I was impressed by how her brain works.

*****

Which reminds me. The other day, she saw a purple, real, driving, battery-powered princess car. It was huge, expensive, and the only place to drive it around here is in the street. I said no. She then asked 4,000 more times. I still said no. I said I didn't want to talk about it, and she dragged me back into conversations. She problem-solved. She took polls. She countered every objection I had. She even suggested a sort of field trip to the home of a girl who had a similar car to see where they stored theirs. Immediately after I picked her up today, she asked if we could go look at the car. I took a breath and smiled and said, "I admire your persistence. No."

It's hard raising a really smart, verbal, stubborn kid sometimes. But I like it, too. I hope I foster enough of it to help her kick ass at life.

Did I mention

That Zadie was exactly three-and-a-half yesterday? As she kept saying, "I'm three and a half for REAL!"



She celebrated by nicking some corn off the table that I hadn't put in the fridge yet.


And hiding and eating the entire thing raw.


The down side is that it did make rather a mess. The up side is I know who I'm getting to shuck my corn this week.

Gettin' air

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Originally uploaded by Mrs. Piggs

on the obstacle course.

In action

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Originally uploaded by Mrs. Piggs

As always.

Close to the surface

A couple days ago, a student asked what I was doing for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I had a hard time fathoming the question. What was I doing? I mean, community service? A barbecue? Holding a flag on the front lawn? What would you do? And at the same time, there was a bit of cynicism. Yes, it's an anniversary, but it's also like a normal day. It's like Veterans' Day; sure, I think about it, but I don't go to any kind of service or anything. I also thought maybe some of the pain had faded.

I was wrong. Zadie pointed out an American flag at the farmers' market today, and I started to say, "Yes, it's kind of a special day today. I'll have to tell you about it later." My breath caught and I almost cried right then. How could I tell her? What could I say? We've barely gotten onto the subject of potential bad strangers without my wanting to protect her from badness and evil forever. How could I explain why some people would hate our country, want to kill us? How could I explain that they believe it's about God, but it's really not, and that most people are still basically good?

It came up later in the car. I ended up with something like this.

"You know New York? Where Grandma and Boompah went? Well, it's in America, so the people there are our countrymen... like our brothers. And one day some bad people went on airplanes, and they wouldn't let the pilot fly where they were supposed to go. Instead they flew them into some buildings in New York. And you know the thing about buildings; they're usually full of people. So when planes crashed into the buildings, the buildings fell down, and the people that were in them didn't have time to get out, so a lot of them died. And that was ten years ago today, so people are remembering it today."

I think she didn't recognize the catch in my voice, so she asked, "And are you happy?"

"Well, no. It's a sad day. But afterwards we all learned we're on the same team, so that's the happy part."

Then she asked about the passing freight train, so I was off the hook.

What am I doing for 9/11? Not much. Going to the gym. Baking cookies. But I am also re-commiting myself to the idea that we're all on the same team. Not just Americans, but people everywhere. Let's be on the same team again.