Asphalt Baptism

M has made great progress learning to ride her bike.  She can now ride pretty effectively…as long as she doesn’t have to turn.   Tonight, Mr. A took her to the park to ride around the big oval track to practice, but the third turn got the better of her.

She crashed.  On her face.  Or more specifically, her right cheek.   Fortunately, it didn’t break the skin, but she is going to have one hell of a bruise tomorrow.

After she fell, Mr. A called me at home and asked me to come to the park.  He had both girls (one screaming, one bewildered) and a scuffed-up bike to walk home.  It sounded like an extra set of hands was warranted.

M had calmed down considerably in the 5 minutes it took me to walk there, but as soon as she saw me, she started sobbing with those big, gut-wrenching sobs that kids get.  Now that she walks through her days with a big-kid hop, skip and jump, it is easy to forget how much a girl needs her mama sometimes.  Even a rough and tumble strong girl.

As we were walking home and M was working on stifling her big shakey breaths, I told M we should nickname her “Tuffy” because she is such a tough kid.

She told me “No.  Tuffy is not a girl name.  My nickname can be Ariel.” 

We compromised with “Tuffy-Ariel” which is a bit of a mouthfull, but it is hard to argue with a girl sporting a giant goose egg on her face.  

I told her when people asked what happened to her face, she should tell people she got into a bar fight.  For obvious reasons, that joke went right over her head.  M said she would rather tell them she got into a fight with her bike.  We decided that the bike won that round.

After a brief rendezvous with a bag of frozen peas and a red popcicle, Tuffy-Ariel ran off to bed with one more milestone under her belt.