That's Fit

Watching my kids' milestones warms my heart. When they first walked, talked, fed themselves, brushed their own teeth, I was one proud mama. Today, I'm bursting at the seams with pride, all because my six-year-old hopped on his bike -- he's only been riding for few months -- and accompanied me on a six-mile trek.

With aching legs and labored breathing, we rode over flat terrain, and up hill, and down hill, and when we arrived at our half-way destination -- my sister's house -- we took a break. Then it was back on the bike for the return trip home. Joey said mid-way home, and mid-incline too, that he wished his Daddy would arrive -- Daddy has a truck, and Joey thought he needed rescuing. He didn't, though. He muscled his way through our journey and even announced at one point, "Can you believe a little guy is riding all this way?" I could believe it. I was witness to it. And it was grand.

Riding his bike this morning was so good for Joey. It was physically good, and mother-and-son good, and most of all, it was self-esteem good. Joey is proud, amazed even, that he accomplished such a task today. It makes me want to ride with him again, after he recovers from this fitness feat. When I told him, "Joey, I think we should do this every weekend," he replied with pure fatigue, "No! How about every 10 weeks?"

Every weekend, every 10 weeks. It doesn't matter to me. I'm game either way.