When I was in high school, the Student Council had a rollerblade-a-thon or something like that through our town. I didn't have any rollerblades nor had I ever rollerbladed before but I asked for a pair and on that Saturday morning put them on and stumble-rolled my way along the really really long trail. I don't remember falling but I do remember thinking I was going to die and/or my legs were going to break off my body.
I am a jumper-in to things. Friendships, activities, volunteering, parenting, things that seem easy in my mind but later turn out to be, well, not easy. I can buy the gear, write the check, sign my name and I'll show up! I assume things will fall into place after that, you know? Why not wing it? How hard can it be? It's all good.
So, today I found myself googling about soccer socks and shin guards before Ivy's very first practice. She did great despite my inadequate knowledge of
Later tonight she was riding her new bike - I swear when we saw it in the store she went right up to it and got on like she knew what she was doing. I also think I could give her the keys to my car and she'd expect to just "know" how to drive it. She's five. - So, she went down her first big hill. And she picked up some speed and she fell. I was all "that was a great fall!" because it was. She fell well, to the side, and with a flourish. It didn't keep her from going down the next hill. And she didn't fall that time.