Comments: Tricycles....

Holy crap. I do believe what I have read here is the big difference betweens fathers and mothers. Good Lord.

I will interject however and say, having only three boys, that I view my primary job on some days as keeping Darwin's theory of the Survival of the Fittest from enacting itself upon my offspring, thereby eliminating them from the gene pool.

Perhaps that is a Mother's Thought...

Posted by Bou on March 31, 2007 09:19 PM

Big props to Big Daddy C. Be sure and tell him I said howdy.

Of course the flip side is another opened can of worms. The boy might not have an edge to his envelope. I may not have grabbed the hot stove more than once, but I did try multiple leaps off of barn roofs with various homemade parachutes, ramped bikes across creeks, etc. etc. The folks at the local emergency room had my insurance card number memorized.

Good on the tot for hanging on to the beast. Sometimes you just have to hang on and beat the damn thing into behaving.

Tell Big Daddy C to be sure and get a Snell approved helmet that has an appropriate fit.......;>)

Posted by bitterman on March 31, 2007 09:26 PM

What a beautiful story. It reminds me of my own youth when we were allowed to take risks.

Posted by Libby on March 31, 2007 10:55 PM

What a beautiful story. It reminds me of my own youth when we were allowed to take risks like that. And a great moral about limitations.

Not that I would had the nerve to let the kid do it, but it's a really good point.

Posted by Libby on March 31, 2007 10:57 PM


Reminds me of my own pet theory that the reason the little buggers are built so close to the ground is so that they won't have so far to fall... And yet...there's something about boys that just wanna see how far they can bounce.

Posted by Nancy on March 31, 2007 11:18 PM

*I* didn't call you Lame-O, Loser, or No-Show Jones. I just said you "pulled a Catfish". Which, in the grand scheme of things, is far, far worse. Pussy.

Posted by zonker on April 1, 2007 01:28 AM

The process is called "testing the limits of the envelope." We boys were past masters of it back in the 1950's, in the days when parents took a more measured, Darwinian view of life...

...and, yes, I do believe it may be a "boy" thing...

...although Elder Daughter certainly tested the envelope in her own way when she was a high-school lass...the Mistress of Sarcasm was wise enough to observe said testing, and thus knew where the edge of the envelope lay, having no need to test it herself.

Posted by Elisson on April 1, 2007 06:43 AM

no one can tell you about your limitations….. YOU have to find them….

Now that right there is a wise observation.
Worthy of a monk sitting on a mountain top in Tennessee.

We had two of the grandchildren this weekend. Sure wish I could bottle their energy and sell it. Of course it would have to be watered down three to one to keep older more fragile bodies from just exploding while sitting there in front of the boob-o-tube.

Posted by kdzu on April 1, 2007 07:19 AM

What a great story Eric - I know exactly what you mean about seeing kids really play and how it makes you want to just feel like that again.

My almost-18-year-old is taking off on a "tricycle" of his own at the moment. It doesn't get any easier to watch that descent. I'm hoping he'll learn like the little tike in your story.

Posted by Chickie on April 1, 2007 07:39 AM

Awesome post man. I was gonna offer the helmet suggestion, but bitterman beat me to it. Maybe bitterman will lend him one of his parachutes too.

Posted by RedNeck on April 1, 2007 09:16 AM

Remember this when your's is 4 years old.
My Congrats to Big Daddy C.
He reminds me of my Dad, I had 14 broken bones while growing up.

Posted by Keeskennis on April 1, 2007 10:38 AM

not just a helmet. Body armor, too.
Bet if that kid wanted to jump off a 10 story building the dad wouldn't have let him. Yeah, let him make his choices and learn his lessons, but... Hell, maybe it's just the Mommy in me. Glad the little guy is alright.

Posted by holder on April 1, 2007 02:05 PM

Sometimes the word 'no' has no meaning for little ones; they have to find out the stove is hot by touching it first.

Posted by Michele on April 1, 2007 03:28 PM

Good God that was both a funny & scary story! When I was a kid I was as bad as the boys. Heck, I have enough broken bones, stitches & scars to prove it.

It seems my son is following in my footsteps. Sometimes when I pick him up after school the scrapes, cuts and bruises are indicative of the hard and intense play he's had. I've actually started taking pictures of all of them with my cell phone camera right at the school. I don't want the authorities paying me a visit because of all these bruises. But if they do, I have a record of when, where, how, and by whom, just in case.

Posted by michele on April 1, 2007 11:02 PM

It's a lesson that never changes - if your parents tell you not to climb a tree, you'll do it anyway and find out the sore way that falling out of it hurts. I was more devious though - I have a brother four years my junior, so I just used him as a living crash test dummy for bike ramps, tree swings and the like.

Posted by Mark on April 2, 2007 07:45 AM