A perfect October day. Not a cloud in the sky, a brisk breeze, an almost-empty park, and a trailer full of bicycles. We rode around the loop twice with the baby in her trailer; afterwards, the kids raced around an empty parking lot tracing lazy figure-eights and swerving between curbs. But then Marcus had to up the ante and instead of following the gradual path down the hill, he rode straight down the side screaming with glee.

And where Marcus goes, Becca must follow, only faster. As she stood at the top of the hill–out of earshot and unwilling to listen to common sense, regardless–I remarked to Matthew, “This is going to be spectacular.”

I hate being right.

She skinned her elbow and her bike helmet is a write-off. It bounced off the asphalt at the tail end of her fall, so we’ll destroy it and throw it out and get a new one. It saved her noggin, that much is certain. She made it most of the way down and only flew off the bike at the end of the run where her path crossed the concrete. A shower, some peroxide, and a cup of tea later and she’s recovered enough to wish she could go back in time and undo her actions.

Maybe she learned something this time, but I’m not really counting on it. Her ballet teacher was already impressed with Becca’s black eye and scraped up face from the incident involving the rope swing, the tree root, and Marcus, where blame is evenly distributed between the two of them.

That said… it was pretty darn spectacular.

P.S. Bike helmets save lives. Right now, she’s drinking her tea in the kitchen while teasing her brother.