Scooter's first day back to school. She's a high school senior this year. I'm not completely freaked out yet, but it is in the back of my mind. At this time next year, she'll be off to college. There's not enough time or space on the internet to say everything I could say about how proud I am of her.
This is what comes to mind after I've dropped her off this morning. All parents probably have the same memory.
The training wheels are off and she's peddling pretty much on her own. All I have to do, is let go of the seat. She's riding the bike and I'm running as fast as I can to keep up with her. Eventually I can't keep up and I have to let go. My heart skips every time I see the wheel wobble, but she doesn't fall. I have to admit, it never really changes. I'd like her to slow down. I want her to keep her eyes on the road. I want her to avoid the bumps. It fills my heart and brings a big kool-aid smile to my face every time I see her look back over her shoulder at me. I can see that she's afraid (just short of terrified), but I also see everything else. I see the pride at her accomplishment. I see the excitement and I see her enjoying the feeling of independence.
She may never have really learned to ride a bike exactly like this. Her memory may be completely different of that specific time and event.
If she reads this (anyone who reads this), I'm sure you know. This post really didn't have much to do with learning to ride a bike.
A cup of java to go. I wonder if she's aware of how much smarter she is than I was at the same age.
Yeah, I know. She does.
(It's petty, but I can still ground her.)