I picked up my camera the other day to walk with the kids while they took a nice, serene bike ride down our peaceful road.
They are so funny together. I think they are comparing their bikes in the shot above. It is a constant game of “anything you can do I can do better”.
For some reason Mark is into tipping his helmet back (probably because it is more dangerous) and putting the strap over his chin. It might have something to do with a superhero.
Susie wanted me to take a picture of her doing one of her “wheelies”…
We had fun in the sunshine. Peaceful and serene. Kids laughing and playing. Good times…
Well except the part where Susie forgot to turn and went straight into the four strand barbed wire fence. Thankfully, she rolled down the little hill into the fence and her front tire gently rested on it, keeping her little self away from the barbs. Phew! That was a close one.
I was trying to get her and her bike out of the little ditch and away from said barbs, and explaining, “I guess we shouldn’t have been riding next to this dangerous fence! Let’s get out of here and go find another place to ride—“
Then came the part where my crash-loving son apparently decided to ride straight into the barbed wire fence, too, just to see if he could handle it or some other boyish reason like that. He ended up hanging from his legs stuck on his bike and from his arms stuck on the fence, with a barb in his armpit and three big scratches all around one side of his rib cage. Of course I rushed over to hold his body weight off the barbs with my left arm, while trying to untangle the barbs from his shirt with my right arm, all the while the camera dangling around my neck hit him repeatedly in the head. I finally had to rip his shirt to free him, while looking around nervously to see if anyone had seen this little predicament or if his excessively loud blood curdling screams had drawn anyone out of the safety of their homes to see whether someone was being mauled by a mountain lion. I told him he could walk his bike home and take it easy, to which he replied, “No.” He mounted his bike and rode straight home without another word. And then he was fine. Until I cleaned his wounds. Then repeat the “blood curdling screams” part – right in my ear.
CPS has not contacted me (yet). I am still expecting a call for the “Mom of the Year” nomination… though it has not yet come. My little guy admitted later that it was a “bad idea”.
Keepin’ it real, folks. The End.