A few days ago, Pretty Bride and I were visiting another couple with a young boy about Maddie’s age. The boy came out of his room to greet us when we walked in the front door, and he was wearing a little white plastic helmet that was tightly cinched to his head.
Me: “Cool! Did Andrew get a tricycle for Christmas, too? Maybe he and Maddie can ride together in the driveway!”
Helmet Boy’s Mom: “No, his plates haven’t fused together yet, so…he wears it all the time for protection.”
Me (laughing): “Really…are you kidding? Aren’t all toddlers’ skulls unfused? They still have a skull right? Isn’t that why God gave us skulls surrounding our brains?”
Helmet Boy’s Mom (not laughing):
Pretty Bride: “So, need any help in the kitchen?”
A few days later, I was chasing my dog Winnie, who’d run into a neighbor’s yard, and their son Miller was riding around on a bigwheel thing with his dad; he too was wearing a little helmet. It was orange. With yellow “flame” stickers.
Me (laughing at Miller): “Nice helmet! Does he crash a bunch?”
Miller’s Dad: “Dude, you should see how fast he can get going when he rides down the driveway. Trust me, if it were your daughter, you’d do the same thing.”
Me: “I don’t think so. I never wore anything on my head when I rode as a kid. I thought that’s what skulls were for.”
Miller’s Dad: “We’ll see. Just you wait.”
Me: “There’s no way in hell I’m making my child wear a helmet, unless she races cars or motorcycles.”
Well, this year for Christmas, Maddie got herself a tricycle and a wagon. And guess what? She doesn’t wear a helmet for either (or shoes). Mainly because I have too much pride to let other parents see me doing something for which I made fun of them. And secondly, she’s not a wuss. In fact, I called her a “baby” earlier tonight during bath time, and she replied like this:
Maddie: “I’m not a baby, Daddy. I’m a lil’ girl. And I’m tough!”
By the way, today’s the day we’re supposed to delurk! Drop a comment!