Parents Usually Know Better...

It's true that if you're a male parent, the probability of usually knowing (and choosing) better than your children do is slightly reduced. It's reduced even more if you've grown up with brothers because you know what kinds of things humans are capable of surviving. Still further reduced is that same probability if you are a male parent living in the South. And it's assuredly reduced further if you can be quoted saying, "Hey Billy, watch this..."

It's true the weekend didn't begin with, "Hey Billy, watch this..." but it might as well have. Melissa had just left for Birmingham to go to the Temple with some friends as few hours earlier, when the kids and I finished dinner and had a few hours of daylight left. We decided to go bike riding. You see, Morgan had just taken off the training wheels several days earlier and was going strong... really no wrecks at all (other than the one where the neighbor's little pomeranian with the stretchy-leash still attached came chasing her and ended up getting the flexible part fo the leash wrapped around the back wheel and getting sucked up and under the back wheel of her bike... which did in fact cause Morgan to crash, but that's really not bad at all). So off we went to ride around the one mile loop/cul-de-sac we live off. Lilly was on her bike, Morgan on hers, and Kate and Dan were in the stroller hot on their tail with dad pushing quickly behind.

We got to the hill (the big one; the one that makes me start running full speed just to keep up with myself) and Lillian and Morgan asked if they could ride home by going back the way we came. "We know the way dad, please?", they pleaded. They fear the big hill.

"No," I responded. "You need to learn to ride up and down hills too."

After a rather long interchange, Lillian still refused being a rather stubborn child, but Morgan conceeded. (Maybe you can see where this is going...)

Well, off Morgan went. Down the hill; gaining speed. I yelled, "Use the brake; step on the brake!" At that point I could see 10 seconds into the future. It wasn't good. I immediately put the brake on the stroller and started off in the fastest sprint I could muster from my thirty-year-old legs. But as you can imagine, it wasn't fast enough. Her steering started to waver and next thing we saw was her precious little body being hurled in unnatural directions with great speed.

Her injuries were severe; of course the abrasions on her knees, elbow, abdomen, and chin were bleeding, though not profusely. She was screaming in pain. The greasy chain marks down her legs and scapes from the chainwheel were not bad. It was the new wrist she gained in the crash that caught my attention. Without question, her perfect little arm had been broken. It was not a compound fracture (no bones poking through the skin), but it was bad. I picked up her broken, bleeding body, realizing full well that I caused this tradgedy, and carried her to the side of the road.

I have started to pay for that short-sighted choice to almost force Morgan to do something she was smart enough to realize was a terrible idea. I will continue to pay for this choice in more ways than one. Hopefully I learned my lesson.

By the time I got a hold of Melissa and she got back home, it was 11:00PM. Luckily, Kate and Lillian had both fallen asleep in the ER; Kate in an umbrella stroller and Lilly in two chairs pressed together. Dan had woken from his nap at about 10:00 PM and was wide awake by the time the doctor was sedating Morgan in preparation for her fracture reduction. After being admitted to the hospital for the night and next day (due to complications in the reduction), we are all home and Morgan will get to realize how difficult it can be to lose the partial function of one's dominant hand.

All this without even having said, "Hey Billy watch this...". Chalk one up for the stupid dad.