The pedals slipped from under his feet, but he regained his balance and kept pushing forward. A couple of scuffs on his knees, a scratch or two here and there, but I could still see it. His pride, bright and shining from his flushed, determined face as he pedaled. Wobbly at first, and smoother as he continued practicing.
My 7-year old. A little older than most, but still. A bike rider at last.
Andy ran alongside him, motivating and keeping him focused on the task at hand.
A little to the left, now the right.
Dodging rocks, potholes, and sticks in his path, he rode. Up and down the rail trail, confidently navigating the dirt, teetering from side to side on two wheels. A skill finally learned.