Anything with wheels...

At one point in my life my mother told me "I am sorry I ever bought you anything with wheels." What?!? Just because I rode my big wheel down the very steep hill into the driveway at Mach 8, or that I tried building a skate ramp in the basement out of a 2"x8" and a piece of plywood, or that I sat on my skateboard at my cousin Tanya's house and road down the center of the 3rd Street hill, or we took the Barbie Rv down the same hill, does not mean that I shouldn't have anything with wheels. It just means that I would have found one way or another to endanger my life in ways that would scare the living daylights out of my mother. For example...climbing around the ancient sheep shed on the neighbor's farm and building a clubhouse on the platform (a very rickety and dangerous platform that was about 12 feet off the ground, I may add) out of old doors and plywood found in various buildings on the farm, complete with old rusty nails and hinges and such that would surely have given me lockjaw if I had cut myself on one of them. Or...swinging from the haymow rope from the 20 foot platform with the neighbor kids, that could have,at any time, let go and I would have plummeted to the floor ending up with a broken something-or-other. Then there is the horseback riding incident that my friend, Dena, and I tried behind the barn where we decided to see if we could stand on the horse's back while at a full out run. Hey! We started with a walk just to gain balance, so I was cautious! Now as the mother of an 8 year-old son I understand exactly what my mother was saying to me. I apparently have given birth to Marvel character, Matt Murdock or as he is known by his secret identity "Daredevil." It started when he was just 9 months old. He was crawling all over and pulling himself up on chairs and couches and had no fear of falling whatsoever. It was at 9 months that he was standing at the coffee table and turned and walked to me all smiles and fearless. I was terrified. He hasn't sat still since.(I would like to interject here that I had a very cautious and somewhat timid daughter five years prior to Daredevil's birth who never once made me shudder in fear of her falling or doing anything remotely scary other than try to crawl out of her crib once and she fell onto a pillow and cried like she broke a leg. I think that fall scared her off of circus tricks or anything of the sort. It took her until she was 10 to learn to ride a two-wheeler because she was afraid of falling...but I digress...) It was at 15 months he decided to go for a ride in the laundry basket down the stairs. Now, I saw this happening as I was at the bathroom at the top of the stairs, however, did you ever have that feeling of the Six-Million Dollar Man? You know the feeling, the faster you run the slower you go? THAT is what was happening to me. I could see him grab the laundry basket and crawl into it and then start skooching toward the edge of the stairs. I stood rooted to the spot willing my limbs to move but was paralyzed and somewhat intrigued at the scene playing out before me. I was immediately whisked back to my childhood and taking the Radio Flyer down the steep hill between Gramma's house and our house...that ended badly as I overshot the road and went ass-over-teakettle down the embankment and wound up in the cornfield stunned and bruised but not bleeding and broken. I forced my legs to move and I started to yell "N-n-n-n-n-o-o-o-o-o-oooooo!" (like Darth Vader in Star Wars) and I reached for him to only grasp air as he began his descent down the 13 Steps into the foyer. I stood frozen with fear as I watched him lean back in the basket and ride smoothly down to the bottom floor like he was on a kiddie rollercoaster. He landed safely at the bottom; not dumped out and thudding down the steps only to land a bruised and bloody screaming mess at the bottom. He jumped out of the basket with an awestruck look on his face. sort of a "That was aMAZING!" look. "WHOOOAAAA!!!" he said and grabbed the handle as if he was going to come back up and do it again. At this point my husband had come running to the bottom of the stairs, grabs the laundry basket out of his tiny little hands and says "I don't THINK so, Daredevil. You have had enough excitement for one day and Mom and Dad have to go in for a cardiac assesment." Baby boy was not so happy with Dad after that. The one thing that I vowed at that point, was he was never going to have anything with wheels. Ever. He is now the proud owner of a two wheeled bike, roller blades and a Radio Flyer red wagon. Thank God our back yard is flat...