Letting Go

Dear Kiwi,

       The other day we went on an outing; Little Man on his scooter, you on your bike, and me pushing baby boy in the stroller.  You have been riding your bike with training wheels for some time now and are fairly confident on it as long as there are no downhills involved. Downhills terrify you. Daddy and I used to just hold your handlebars and guide you down the hill, but lately we have been encouraging and at times insisting that you do it yourself.  We remind you how to use the brakes and assure you that we are right there if you feel like you are going out of control.  I tell you that as fast as you could say "Mommy!" I could reach out and stop you, but that you needed to do it by yourself.  You have fought us on this; whined, pleaded for us to just hold onto the bike, whined some more,  until realizing that we were not going to do it for you and then you would grudgingly do it yourself with the brakes on the entire time.  This usually meant, Little Man was standing at the bottom for several minutes while Mason and I (or Daddy) walked next to you at a snail's pace. Your most common response to our praise that you did it, is usually a vehement,"But I didn't yike it!" This has been the cycle for several months now.
    Yesterday, we did one hill that way.  Then we hit the hill leading into our neighborhood.  You started out tentatively barely moving as usual while Little Man flew down the hill on his scooter at alarming speed.  Then you started going a little faster and faster and soon I was running to keep up with you.  Your little pigtails were peeking out of the back of your pink princess helmet and suddenly you were laughing and yelling at the same time.  Not frightened yelling, but a triumphant, happy yell only interrupted by relieved giggles that you were conquering your fear.
     When I reached you at the bottom of the hill, you turned to me and said, "I screamed my head off!"  Bright red cheeks, wisps of hair escaping your helmet and eyes triumphant and beaming.  It was one of those moments as a mommy that I felt as if my heart would break with pride and joy for one of my children.  Buoyed with your new found confidence you attacked the uphill we still needed to ascend with fierce determination not stopping nearly as often as you usually do.
      Baby Girl, sometimes I worry that I am going to have a little bit of a hard time letting you and your brothers grow up. Like when you go to college, I will make Daddy sell the house and follow you.  But today was one of those reminders of something that deep down I know.  That is is my job to help you get ready to someday (in a long time) spread your wings and fly.  That although we will always be here for you, we can't do everything for you.   And looking down into your shining face, a thought occurred to me.
That maybe when the time comes for you to go to college, on a mission, or (gulp) get married, I won't be sad because I'll know you are ready.  And if watching you fly down a hill on your bike can make my heart feel like bursting with joy, how amazing it must be for parents to watch their children grow into the people they are meant to me.

I love you,
Mommy

P.S.  Next up, getting rid of the training wheels...