Bikes and Boo-Boos

The boys seem to get bigger every day. Everyone always says they grow up so fast, but I never believed it when the boys were tiny. They are little people now though, and it is totally true. They just got their first real bikes last week, a red one for Riley and a blue one for Connor, and they are already speed demons. The thing that was most surprising though, is that Connor, who crawled first, walked first, and has made almost every physical developmental milestone ahead of his brother, actually struggled more than Riley on the bike at first. He had trouble pedaling FORWARD, instead of BACKWARD, which in a little kid's bike, acts as the brake. Riley basically jumped on and took off, which wasn't so good, since we live on a hill. I took them down around the corner to a dead-end street, where I chased them as they pedaled up and down, forgetting to steer and use the brakes. Now every day, rain or shine, they ask when they can ride their bikes. Thank goodness spring has finally sprung around here, three days of sun and 60 degrees in a row!
With the spring and sun comes lots of playing outside, and with lots of playing outside comes Connor's yearly trip to the hospital. Well, he probably takes more than one trip a year to the hospital, but about once a year he manages to score himself some stitches. When he was about a year old, he got his fingertip smashed open in a door; at about 18 months, he ran into a cinderblock corner and split open his forehead; and today, he and Riley were standing up in a wagon when one of their friends at school decided to move it somewhere. They both fell backward, Riley landed on Connor, and Connor's head landed on some gravel. So for the third time, I took him to the hospital and had to hold him still as they sewed him back together. It wasn't fun. First of all, I don't really like blood all that much. The last time Connor hurt himself was a few months ago in the middle of the night. He woke us up screaming, and I went into the room, thinking he just had a bad dream, until I rolled him over and realized he was bleeding. Somehow the boy had managed to slice open the skin over his eye in his sleep. We think he cut it on the corner of his dresser, but we are still not exactly sure what happened. Anyway, I yelled for Aaron, who decided Connor needed to go to the hospital. As I looked at him, all bloody and crying, I got all hot and everything started to fade out in front of my eyes. Needless to say I wasn't much help in getting them out the door.
Second of all, it is absolutely horrible to have to hold your child down as someone hurts him, even if you know it is important and for their own good. The gash was on the back of his head, so they had me lie down with him on my chest, and I had to hold him still as they washed out and stitched up his head. I held up pretty well, until the very end, when he was screaming, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!" Luckily he is pretty resilient and a few minutes later he was asking me when we could get ice cream (vanilla), which I gladly purchased for him at the hospital concession stand. So hopefully we have fulfilled our quota for the year (or the next 80), since Connor said at the hospital, "I'm never coming back here ever again!" Let's hope he's right.