Crybabies

Sarah and I rode our bikes to a park this afternoon and played on the playground. We were having a good time and singing a song from Noah's piano book that goes, "Who's more fun than a barrel of monkeys? We are!"

Then I whacked my head so hard on the monkey bars that I sat right down and cried. The fun was pretty much over after that, so we headed home. Sarah wanted me to lead the way, so I took off for home. I looked back once in awhile to make sure she was following. It was very windy, and I had a hood over my ears, so I couldn't hear very well. When I turned around one time, I didn't see her, so I went back to search for her. As I got closer, I could hear the screaming getting louder. I found her face down on the ground pinned under her bike. Her hand was scraped raw, and her knee was bruised.

I scooped her up and comforted her, but she refused to get back on her bike. We started walking our bikes toward home, and I commented that it had not been our best trip. She said, "I cry a lot because I'm only seven, but I never knew that thirty-nine-and-a-half-year-olds could be crybabies too." We sang the barrel of monkeys song again, but this time we ended with, "We're not."

We were still a long way from home, and I didn't want her to be afraid of her bike forever, so I tried to convince her to ride. Singing is a powerful influence on her, so I started singing the Joshua 1:9 song about being strong and courageous: "Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." She finally got back on her bike, and we rode the rest of the way home. Mike and Noah were playing baseball in the yard, and when we told them our sad story, Mike even offered to put our bikes away for us.