Once Were Worriers...

So my boys like to ride their bicycle. Yes. I said bicycle because there is only one and they have to take turns. I know. Pretty sad. The worst part is they are covered from head to toe in safety gear and still have training wheels. I remember my dad just pushing me along on two wheels and letting go. I ate a lot of gravel and came home with elbow and knee strawberries but I survived. Now I am so overly protective of my boys, I don't know what it is. I used to jump on my bike at their age and go off into the neighborhood, traffic, mountains, and all, and come home before dark and dinner. Maybe the world has changed. Maybe I have changed. My dad did pack me on the back of his bike when I was about five or six. My leg went into the back spokes and it snapped my ankle in half. I still have the scar and barely remember the injurious event. I do remember being in the hospital and my dad was yelling at the doctor because they set my leg wrong and had to rebreak the bone. I remember when my cast was ready to come off, I cried at the little buzzing circular saw that the doctor had in his hand to cut my cast off. I thought it was amputation time. I got over it. My dad, to this day, doesn't like to talk about what happened because it still hangs over him like a black cloud. I think I will stick with the overly protective gear for now. I have enough black clouds hanging over me already. And Elliott really seems to enjoy "Diary of a Wimpy Kid"...