My daughter has arachnophobia. I woke up one night feeling claustrophobic when I realized … in addition to my 7 year old son and mini Labradoodle there was also my 22 year old daughter in my bed. In the morning she told me there was a big spider in her room last night- so she fled, shut the door and even stuffed a towel in the crack.
You can read about my son’s avocado phobia here (and get a great guacamole recipe).
I currently suffer from a fear of biking with my 7 year old son. My overall anxious demeanor has slowly developed over the years. If he was a card he would be the wild card in the deck. Impossible to predict … Except for the fact that I am beginning to develop my crystal ball mentality when it comes to going out of the house with him. There will always be surprises. (Good and Bad).
What was supposed to be a lovely bike ride around the block together (on a new bike which now sits in the garage on display ) ended in an assault on a parked car. There was even an innocent bystander- my neighbor. ( I’m not counting myself because at 7 I should still have some degree of control over him…right? Right? )
I should probably also tell you that if you want to join us on a bike ride wear ear plugs. This is because the entire time I am verbally directing him- which is funny when you know that he has an auditory processing disorder. So I am wasting my breath and annoying my neighbors.
His testing showed he learns best visually but he must be actually looking forward which he doesn’t while he bikes. He looks backwards and side to side. I have to scream to get him to look forward which is what I am doing because there is a parked car he is headed straight for. I am in “Hyena Mode” but it is too late. After he hits the parked car he falls and jumps right up and starts to attack the car. Kamakazi style he punches and kicks it. All while my neighbor looks on.
He is a numbers boy so dollars and cents are the way to his heart. I start screaming that we will have to pay for any damage he causes to the car. This slowly sinks in and he flees the scene and starts running home. After I look the car over closely I say a small prayer to God because there are no visible marks. I manage to walk home with both bikes feeling sad like I always do after he has an outburst. I also review what happened and try to think of how I could have prevented or better handled the situation.
I have been on several bike rides since then but not with him. The meer thought of biking with him again makes me break out in hives.
My daughter has this print in her room. It is one of her favorites.
Every time I see it it reminds me of the second chance I need to give my son.
One of our Grandmas never learned to ride a bike because her parents were so afraid of her falling and getting hurt.
Closer to the truth of my life:
If you fall off your bike, get back up on it and keep riding… because it’s really the movement of going forward that will make your ride/life beautiful. My son and I need to learn this and sometimes the hard way.