My dad was a tough guy. Never said much about difficulty. In fact I found an old journal of his where all he said about being on the beach in Normandy was “It was hell.”
One of my daughters played basketball. Often we would ride our bikes over to a nearby playground and shoot baskets and play one-on-one. One day my twelve year old hops on her bike with the ball under her left arm, right hand for steering and off she goes with me following. Two blocks from home, I see her reach her right hand over to the left side to shift gears and wham it’s “Hello pavement meet girl.”
A neighbor lady who was out walking saw the spill and sprints up making comforting noises. I ride up, “You’re OK, let’s go.” Leaving a stunned neighbor, mouth agape as off we go.
About a block later as we silently ride on I glance over at my ever game companion and she is cuts and scrapes and blood all over. “Uhhh… maybe we should turn around and let your mom check you out.” Remember girls, Webbs gotta be tough, just not that tough.
Happy Father’s day kids, thanks for putting up with the learning curve.