On Friday evening during the first 10 minutes of our bike ride (Ava's longest to date, 2.5 miles when all was said and done...on this bike) Zoe bit it. Hard. It was a "oh please let her still have a nose" kind of crash. To add insult to injury, this all happened in front of three of last year's 5th grade boys at her elementary school. Not just any 5th graders, but the 5th graders every one knows, including Zoe. Right before she hit the pavement, the boys turned around and witnessed the whole thing. And then they:
a) turned around and kept walking
b) asked if she was ok
c) laughed out loud
d) none of the above
To my surprise and delight, the answer was 'd.' They didn't just ask if she was ok, they rushed over and expressed real concern. Not a hesitation. No muffled laughter. As Zoe buried her head in my shoulder (the injuries were minimal--scratches on her knee and ankle) one of the boys put his hand on her shoulder to console her; another kindly joked that it was probably their fault--that they had "jinxed" her. They stayed there by our biker caravan chatting with Lori, Brennan and Ava until Zoe calmed down. After about 3 minutes, realizing both her pride and her body were still in tact, Zoe was ready to resume the ride. We headed east down Healey as the boys went west. Their response assuaged Zoe's pain (both physical and emotional) and provided Brennan with an example of what it means to be a cool kid. It was a great moment. Thank you, Gus, Jake and Will. Your parents should be proud.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
know fear *
* weren't those shirts the best? I associate them with Zima for some reason. I never owned a No Fear shirt and I never tasted a Zima, but for some reason, they just go seem to go together.
There are a few universal fears that all children experience. And I feel safe in assuming that those fears are perpetuated by older siblings. For those of us who are oldest siblings, I have no idea where we learn them (Sesame Street?). All I know is that we did/do our best to ensure that those younger than us are more afraid (in general) than we are. In this we take solace.
Earlier this year a child predator in a...wait for it...white van (!!) was allegedly trying to nab kids near schools in town. The kids heard about it. A lot. In school. At home. At friends' homes. White vans are now somewhere on the list between spiders in the basement and monsters under the bed.
A few weeks ago Brennan and Zoe were playing in our front yard. I looked out the window just in time to observe Brennan looking apprehensively at the road in front of our house; he then put his arm around Zoe's shoulder and led her towards the backyard. He glanced over his shoulder twice during the retreat, quickening his pace each time. What was the source of his concern, you ask?
A white Prius containing two Baby Boomer-aged women going door to door handing out political campaign material.
Unless you really dislike grassroots activism, they were about as far from predatory as it gets. I was tempted to tell them my son had confused them for white-van-driving child molesters, but I wasn't convinced they'd find the humor in his perspective. They looked awfully focused.
While Brennan may torment his sisters mercilessly at times, and do his fair share of fear perpetuation, I can confidently state that that he doesn't want them to be kidnapped. At least not Zoe. I'll take it.
PS. He may want to keep Zoe around for entertainment. After she saw this, she did this.
There are a few universal fears that all children experience. And I feel safe in assuming that those fears are perpetuated by older siblings. For those of us who are oldest siblings, I have no idea where we learn them (Sesame Street?). All I know is that we did/do our best to ensure that those younger than us are more afraid (in general) than we are. In this we take solace.
Earlier this year a child predator in a...wait for it...white van (!!) was allegedly trying to nab kids near schools in town. The kids heard about it. A lot. In school. At home. At friends' homes. White vans are now somewhere on the list between spiders in the basement and monsters under the bed.
A few weeks ago Brennan and Zoe were playing in our front yard. I looked out the window just in time to observe Brennan looking apprehensively at the road in front of our house; he then put his arm around Zoe's shoulder and led her towards the backyard. He glanced over his shoulder twice during the retreat, quickening his pace each time. What was the source of his concern, you ask?
A white Prius containing two Baby Boomer-aged women going door to door handing out political campaign material.
Unless you really dislike grassroots activism, they were about as far from predatory as it gets. I was tempted to tell them my son had confused them for white-van-driving child molesters, but I wasn't convinced they'd find the humor in his perspective. They looked awfully focused.
While Brennan may torment his sisters mercilessly at times, and do his fair share of fear perpetuation, I can confidently state that that he doesn't want them to be kidnapped. At least not Zoe. I'll take it.
PS. He may want to keep Zoe around for entertainment. After she saw this, she did this.
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