Oh y’all, my cautious kid has been empowered by country living and a helmet. He’s had the helmet for quite some while, so it’s the combination of the two that are making the difference.
Friday was quite the adventure. As Tootsie was taking a drink, I noticed Baby Gray kicking the water bucket and splashing her. No big deal, I thought. I continued getting ready, and out the window, I saw a helmet-clad kid–my helmet-clad kid–trying to ride the calf!
As I headed for the front door to suggest he maybe not ride Tootsie until she’s a little bigger and Daddy could get home to help, I found him heading out the front gate with his four wheeler (still wearing his helmet). No big deal, I thought. I helped him get out the gate so he could ride on the gravel instead of in the grass. I should mention he shouldn’t go down the hill, I thought. Nah, he is cautious; he won’t go down the hill, I thought.
I continued getting ready and snuck a little peek out the window to double check Baby Gray was safe and sound at the top of the hill. No such luck. Down, down, down he went. Out the door I went. I called him from the porch, where he turned, acknowledged me, and continued on his merry way.
I grabbed my car keys and headed down the hill myself. Lucky for me, his four wheeler only goes about -2 miles per hour, so he hadn’t actually gotten too very far. When I stopped him, he was quite upset; he just wanted to go “over there” (he said pointing to the chicken houses across the public gravel road).
My suggestion to head back up the hill was met with quite a protest, but he finally headed that direction.
Apparently, we’ve got quite the cocktail for courage up here on the hill.