but it seemed like such a good idea

Seriously. It was a fool proof plan. Zoe was strapped into the stroller and Lori wasn't that far down the hill. Really, how much momentum could the stroller gain before Lori caught her? The two of them would embrace with a laugh and smile--an instant little memory and adventure would be shared and treasured forever. My well-designed plan came to a screeching halt as the stroller went up onto the curb at 6 miles an hour, flipping the stroller over onto it's side and sending Zoe crashing to the concrete pad below. Instead of joyous yelps from Lori for a moment well-lived, Lori yelled "dammit" and kicked a soccer ball (which went rolling towards her after it fell out of the tipped over stroller) while biting her lip (which Lori does when she is exceedingly mad...the bit lip is usually followed by a swing in my direction, or preceded by profanity. In this case I was too far away to punch, so dammit had to suffice). I ran forward fully expecting a busted mouth/forehead, broken tooth, or sprained wrist, but all that was to be found was a traumatized little girl and a skinned knee (she enjoyed the ride, the tipping was a bit much for her...understandably so). Of course I felt like a bad father, terrible person, reckless human, etc. but I was offered some solace by the memory of my father providing adventures which had the same inevitable conclusion as the runaway stroller. I'm quite sure there are others, but I'm aware of at least 2 (Mom, maybe you can help me complete the list):

1) Victim: a young me (4 yrs. old?)
Activity: careening down the driveway, much too fast, on an old hot wheels three wheeler
Culprit: my father
Result: a split toe nail which would leave my foot permanently scarred until my 13th year
2) Victim: a young Kari (my younger sister)
Activity: an ice cube fight in the backyard
Culprit: my father
Result: Kari's lip was sliced open by a flying ice cube. This did not result in stitches,
but probably should have.

The reason these memories comforted me in my moment of irresponsibility is because my dad is a great dad. Even in these instances when he inflicted pain, it was the consequence of fun intentions and there were no lasting negative associations with his playfulness (i.e. you never would have heard any of us kids utter, "No, I will not go swimming with that man. I will surely drown." Perhaps that's because we all focused our concern on his neck mole and that it would be eaten by a spotted sea trout...even when we were in a swimming pool. As if his neck mole was so appealing, it had the power to lure aquatic lifeforms from their ocean dwellings to a public pool in central Illinois).

I am happy to report that I believe Zoe has forgiven me and that she is still willing to play my games. Yesterday I took her for a 30 mile bike ride in the trailer. When she began to feel uncomfortable and voiced her concern that she shouldn't have agreed to this madness, I promptly stopped at a nearby park where we had fun swinging on the swings and playing hide and seek. Even the game of "tornado" which we typically play at full force on the tire swing could have been appropriately renamed, "mildly suspicious funnel cloud." She is forgiving, and I am adapting. Although now that I know all she suffered was a skinned knee, and no visible emotional baggage, is it ok to say that seeing Lori's face and hearing Brennan's response ("why would you do that?") made it all worthwhile? Maybe, but surely that thought will prompt karma to send a trout to attack my right cheek during tomorrow morning's shower. In light of that possibility, and the fact that I still genuinely feel bad about the outcome, I will just say, sorry Zoe.