Questionable parenting

I just got done reading Pioneer Woman's post about her children riding a wild burro at a rodeo. There's a video of her eleven-year-old daughter getting tossed by the burro.

That's life in the country. It brought back some memories of my son, when he was five years old.

We had a Honda 70 minibike. Cliff had tried to teach our boy to ride it, but Jimmy was pretty intimidated by it all, and more or less opted out.

Our friend, Tom, actually got on the minibike behind Jim and they took off: then Tom stood up and got off, leaving my five-year-old son driving. Jimmy crashed when he realized Tom wasn't with him.

Now Cliff will tell you that I can't drive a duck to water. It's true. You wouldn't believe the pathetic attempts I've made at driving, only to be subjected to ridicule and finally giving up in despair.

But I wanted my little boy to be able to drive that minibike. I knew he could do it if he only had the confidence.

So one day while Cliff was at work, I straddled the minibike and started it up. I went to the alfalfa field in front of our house and rode (very slowly) in a circle until I felt like I knew what I was doing.

Then I got my kid out there and showed him how it was done; and he wasn't intimidated, because it was his mom showing him. He rode around that alfalfa field so many times that after awhile there was an oval track through it.

Later that summer, Cliff's brother's wife's dad took sick and went into the hospital to die. I volunteered to watch their three boys during that time.

The oldest of those boys, Scotty, was the same age as Jimmy. I showed him how to operate the minibike and he took off, never looking back. He was a natural.

I still don't drive. But I will never forget teaching those two little boys to ride our Honda 70, back about 1972.

Sweet memories.

Would you believe I don't have a single picture of that silly minibike? I sure wish I did!