The day after Thanksgiving we went to Freestone park with the Quists for a little bike riding and park time. It was a very sunny and warm day and we weren’t alone in our idea to get outdoors. The park was very crowded and in an effort to find a playground that wasn’t over run with children we headed across the park on bike, foot (or in my case, by car!) to a little playground at the bottom of the hill. While the playground is small, the hill near it, is not. Stephen and Boston, who both have training wheels on their bikes, were trucking happily along the sidewalk and before I could shout any kind of warning they proceeded to zip down the hill without pausing or slowing down. I watched from the top of the hill in horrified fascination as Stephen rounded the curve at the bottom of the hill. Inwardly cringing, I waited for him to crash but happily that didn’t happen. Only two clicks behind him came Boston, who was not so lucky. At first I thought he was going to make it too but alas, he reached the curve and it was too much for him. He and his little bike went flying off of the sidewalk and landed in the grass. I was at the top of hill – quite far away – and as I hurried down the hill (remember big pregnant belly) as fast as I could, I could see strangers rushing over to check if he was ok. I got there and cradled him in my lap to see the damage. He seemed pretty scared but mostly he was angry that he crashed. When asked where he was hurt he pointed to a spot on his head. I removed his helmet to check it out and found it to be visually un-harmed. On the other hand, his helmet was not. He had cracked it! Thank goodness for that helmet! Well, my crazy little Boston hadn’t had enough of the hill. He wanted to conquer that thing. This time Scott was there right beside him and taught him to use his brakes to slow himself down. He was having so much fun cruising down the hill over and over again. After five or six successful rides with Scott beside him we figured Boston had it under control. Scott stayed at the top of the hill and watched him go…repeat the first crash! He flew down the hill, no brakes and crashed in the same spot, once again strangers were running over to check on him. Once again, he was more angry than hurt and was yelling and kicking at people. After making sure he was okay we (adults) had a good laugh and decided to cut our losses and go get slushies at QT. We bought him a new bike helmet that night – he wanted the same exact one – red with flames on it. It seems apropos for the little daredevil!
The cracked helmet:
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