On a recent weekend my nearly 3-year-old granddaughter Ada was visiting us, and enthusiastically sliding down a small hill behind our Mount Vernon home, when she fell off the sled and slid along the ground, scratching her face and wrist.
But she bounced right up and ran back up the hill, smiling and eager to slide again. That reminded me of how resilient kids are, and brought back a lot of memories of bumps and bruises during my childhood.
I was quite young when I jumped off the shed roof and drove a spike right through my foot. The spike was attached to a small board and I couldn’t get it out of my foot, so I stomped into the house, spike and board still attached. I’m sure my Mom could hear me coming: clomp, clomp, clomp. She rushed me to the local doctor’s office where he removed the spike, board and all, and treated my foot.
One time I fell out of the apple tree in our front yard, and followed my parents around for about an hour until they decided I had broken my wrist.