Contrasting Experiences
Round and round the garden he rode the bike excitedly. The happy curly-haired boy was seven or eight years old. Perhaps a little older. It was fun, it was a thrill. His mum looked on from the patio in pleasure at the newly learned technique. He was doing it at last, he was riding without stabilisers. It felt great! Growing up and learning new skills. This was a big one. Of the many milestones on the way to adulthood, this was important.
Only the young lad was forced to continue on and on, he couldn’t brake to stop. A kind of worry. Stopping whilst balancing was something else. A sense of panic arose in his chest. As he came round the circle towards the house the boy leapt off the bike but the bike continued with the inertia. It self-cycled right along the patio, passed the surprised mother, smashing into a plastic chair and breaking it.
That boy was of course me. I may have had my pocket money docked for some weeks. Fast forward two and a half decades. My wife took our eldest son (recently turned four) out with his newly-gifted pedal bike without stabilisers. In no time at all he had mastered the skill. Having ridden a balance bike for the past 18 months he only needed meagre minutes to adjust to the weight and new technique. In the days that followed his newly acquired skill he wanted to go out all the time to ride. Who could blame him? He could hurtle along the paths of our nearby park at speed. Feeling the thrill of the wind on his face. Smiling constantly.
A walk in the woods
We’re lucky to have some fantastic countryside near us. Nothing too dramatic, not awe-inspiring or tourist worthy. Just plenty of trees and greenery and fresh air. There is a woodland crisscrossed with streams about fifteen minutes drive away known as The Chase. It’s owned and maintained by the National Trust. Popular with dog walkers but never busy. Once passed the carpark you can wander for ages in solitude if that’s what you wanted. I took my eldest son there today to throw rocks in the watery ponds.
We strode through the initial paths. We basked in the balmy autumnal air. The afternoon sunlight was glorious, highlighting the fading yellows of the leaves. A turning took us through some mud which was a squelchy challenge and then eventually we found a bench overlooking a babbling brook. It was here we rested and had some snacks. Whilst there my son chatted away happily, informing me that he was the only boy in his preschool who said ‘thank you’. I inquired how he knew that and he said his teachers had told him. This felt like a win.
Milestones aren’t always obvious. Under the withering canopy, we played sink-or-float with a variety of woodland debris we found on the bank of the stream. We tossed acorns, sticks and small rocks into the water. My son lobbed a smooth stone across the water and used the word aerodynamic in context for the second time this week. I was suitably impressed once again. A gust of wind shook the trees and leaves lazily drifted downwards. I marveled in the freshness of the scene and felt a lingering sense of gratitude that I could spend this time with my boy. Dare I say that I felt fortunate, I felt lucky.
What milestones tell us
People will say mixed things about parenting. Something that has stuck with me most was a comment: it is the best thing you’ll ever do and the worst thing you’ll ever do. Even that sentence gives false equivalence to the best and worst. The fact is, that it’s not balanced. It isn’t half good and half bad. It’s mostly a monotony of chiding, confronting, comforting. Teaching the same lessons over and over again, whilst dealing with behaviour issues, tantrums and persistent sickness.
The above are the important points. The milestones are what all the suffering is for. Forgetting the tedium of the chores, the broken sleep. Seeing the other side of the relentless illness brought home from nursery and the countless trips to GPs and hospital for mysterious afflictions. When your children are healthy, when they play and grow and reach milestones you thought were years in their future. That’s when parenting feels like a life path that was worth choosing.
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