As a parent, there are moments when you know it's time to let go -- especially bicycle seats with hearts and ponies.
For the most part, life doesn't come with little plastic training wheels. There certainly have been times when extra guidance would have prevented spills, crashes and over-the-handlebars-of-life face-plants. In the end, however, it's all about balance; whether career and family or a My Little Pony bike.
The past few weeks -- weather and six-year-old mentality permitting -- have been a lesson in patience, perseverance and pedaling without training wheels. It has not been all rainbows and lollipops. There have been tears, but no major bloodshed or life-altering facial scars. Although I've come to the bitter conclusion that my best 40-yard dash times are behind me.
Rather than literally push our daughter sans training wheels, we eased into two-wheel riding. What really held us back were the leg casts she wore during six weeks of physical therapy. Call us overprotective parents, but we didn't want her in the ER for an accompanying arm cast.
Actually, the training wheels coming off was all our daughter's idea. I think seeing pint-size neighborhood kids peel past her proved positive peer pressure.
So far the solo pedal times qualify as short stints. The Wright Brothers' 12 seconds at Kitty Hawk seems like a transatlantic flight by comparison. Of course, it took numerous attempts for Orville and Wilbur -- no strangers to the business end of a bike -- to get things off the ground.
However, it's hard coming to terms with inevitable crash landings at the end of the driveway. As parental moments go, this is one of those times when you have to let the chips, or child, fall as they may. Unfortunately, I follow too close behind and remain too hands on. While constantly running interference to prevent a fall offers a cardiovascular workout, in my heart I know it's time to stop.
Perhaps part of my hesitation comes from the fact that bikes have been an accident waiting to happen. BMX dirt bikes to garage sale 10-speeds, you name it, I've crashed it. While I didn't suffer any lasting emotional scars, it took awhile for the blacktop facials to heal. I know my mom went through plenty of Band-Aid boxes, first-aid ointment and hugs.
However, she wasn't overly sympathetic about wipeouts related to intentional 20-foot Huffy skid marks in the driveway or Evel Knievel-inspired jumps. In today's parenting parlance, this would be called a teaching moment. Back then, it was simply called stupidity.
Times might change, but parenthood will always be filled with moments both pleasurable and painful to watch. Case in point, witnessing the cruel effects of gravity on a bike with a Barbie horn but without proper balance. However, there comes a time when you have to let go and hope for the best.
Although it wouldn't hurt to have a plenty of Band-Aids and hugs on standby.
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