Doc is always regailing me with his childhood adventures one of which involved his bike. He told me he went flying through the air and ended up unconscious for a few seconds. He woke up to see his brother and friends looking down at him.
That makes me shudder.
Grumpy joined his brother Bashful and the elite group of youngsters who have learned how to ride a bike. His riding skills just need a little tweeking.....like how to ride down a steep hill.
Yesterday, we were visiting friends and I was chatting away happily as usual when I was told that Grumpy had hurt himself. I was a little confused because, well, my boys are kind of tough and it's no big deal if they get hurt.
I go outside and there's Grumpy on the bottom of the stairs crying and milking it for all it's worth for the benefit of the kids surrounding him. Through various children and disjointed storytelling, I was able to vaguely discern what had happened.
Grumpy had borrowed a bike and went riding down the steep hill next to the house. He was going so fast that he couldn't peddle anymore. He slammed right into our van, went flying through the air, and once he landed in the dirt, his body continued to move forward skidding for a couple more feet.
The part that I heard the most from all the kids was, "He was flying through the air!" It was said with awe as if he had sprouted wings.
My eight-year-old was covered with dirt and scrapes. Doc said later that when I took Grumpy to the bathroom, Doc couldn't hear himself talk with all the wailing going on.
My Grumpy. Always the drama king.
That makes me shudder.
Grumpy joined his brother Bashful and the elite group of youngsters who have learned how to ride a bike. His riding skills just need a little tweeking.....like how to ride down a steep hill.
Yesterday, we were visiting friends and I was chatting away happily as usual when I was told that Grumpy had hurt himself. I was a little confused because, well, my boys are kind of tough and it's no big deal if they get hurt.
I go outside and there's Grumpy on the bottom of the stairs crying and milking it for all it's worth for the benefit of the kids surrounding him. Through various children and disjointed storytelling, I was able to vaguely discern what had happened.
Grumpy had borrowed a bike and went riding down the steep hill next to the house. He was going so fast that he couldn't peddle anymore. He slammed right into our van, went flying through the air, and once he landed in the dirt, his body continued to move forward skidding for a couple more feet.
The part that I heard the most from all the kids was, "He was flying through the air!" It was said with awe as if he had sprouted wings.
My eight-year-old was covered with dirt and scrapes. Doc said later that when I took Grumpy to the bathroom, Doc couldn't hear himself talk with all the wailing going on.
My Grumpy. Always the drama king.
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