Today was the beginning of the rest of my life.
You know, the part where I let my guys go.
Today my 10 year old and my 11 year old asked if they could ride their bikes to McDonald’s for dinner with some friends.
TWO POINT SIX MILES AWAY.
I said yes.
It wasn’t easy for me. But I did it.
I pumped up their tires and sent them on their way with $10 in a pocket.
And they left.
A bit later, I had to run out to school for a conference. On the way home, I ‘accidentally’ went the wrong way and drove past McD’s.
I saw ZERO bicycles. I drove around twice. Nothing. Nada.
Should I go in?
I called Andrew. Had he heard from the boys? They promised they’d call when they got there. Yes, they had called.
I wondered where the bikes were, but reluctantly (and a little ashamed I’d gone in the first place) I drove away.
When the boys got home (you knew they would, right?) they were full of giggles and pride. They’d had the best time ever. They felt mature. Responsible. Grown up.
Oh, not grown up. Please. Not yet.