Two-wheeler

Steve calls me at work last week and first thing he says is, "You're not going to believe what your son's done now." Great, this is the phone call I've been waiting for. Let's see - I don't hear sirens so he hasn't lit Grandpa's house on fire. I can hear Tug barking in the background so our dog's still alive. Steven's not panicked so possibly a shattered window? Lightsaber practice on Emma's snow globe collection? Placed a nice chocolate frosting coating on new couches? So I give up and ask him if I really want to know. "Only if you want to know that he removed his own training wheels and rides a two-wheeler now," he says.

"No way," I say, and then I remember that this is Brooks we're talking about. Steve goes on to tell me that he went outside to find our son has removed one training wheel from his bike and is working on the other. He tells his daddy that he doesn't need the extra wheels anymore because he's 4 now. Well I'll be danged if he wasn't right.

Of course, Emma's 9 now so she realizes this is a camera moment that mom will cry over if we don't have record of it and she grabs the video and still cameras. What happened to my babies? It's no surprise that Brooks was turning around and slicing corners by the time I returned from work. For a few days after he would yell, "Mommmmmm!" So I would open the door and ask him what he needed. He'd reply, "Does this bike I'm riding have training wheels?" I smile and answer "No Brooks, it doesn't, you're the best Bud!" The most thrilling thing about this is no serious accidents or new scar probabilities. Thank you E.J. for remembering the cameras and lending Brooks your helmet. Thank you Babes for not telling him he's too little and will crack his head open, like I would have. Lastly, thank you Brooks for being Brooks and always bypassing the average just because you believe you can.