Shortly after we moved here, we noticed Moo’s knees were nearing her handlebars, so The Mister took her bike shopping. She picked out a large green retro Schwinn. She rides it all the time. She even asks to, thinks she can, ride it in snow and on ice. To say she loves riding her bike would be an understatement.
Our little daredevil quickly learned to do all sortsa tricks on her bike.
Now and again, she reports an accident, but she’s so dramatic, and yet, so vague, we cannot determine the extent of her injuries.
Here’s a prime example:
“My tummy hurts. Look at it.”
“Doubtful I can see your issue with my human eyes.”
I looked. Her upper abdomen had red streaks across it.
With her being Moo, the first thing I thought was hives.
“Does it itch?”
“No, it hurts!”
“Have you been lying on crumpled blankets?”
“Did you climb at Lily’s today?”
“No. I rode my bike and jumped on the trampoline and played X-box and chased the dogs.”
She winced as she rubbed cream on it.
“Moo, didja fall off your bike today?”
“Didja fall over your handlebars?”
Then later, something so awful happened, I could actually see her adrenaline. Somethin about somethin with the chain and screaming fury and it really hurt!
She appeared completely unscathed, but I swooped her into a hug and told her to breathe the nice long breaths.
When she’d calmed down, I asked her, “Did your chain fall off or did it break?”
“I dunno! I’m not a mechanic-ic!”