Photo by Dominika Roseclay from Pexels
My kids rode their bikes ahead of me. It was a familiar path around the neighborhood. The wind whipping my youngest daughters long golden locks back. My daughter was quick to learn how to ride her bike. I am impressed. She got a new bike. This one was white. It was a bigger bike.
There was no longer a princess basket on the front of it. She wanted a big girl bike. I see her trying to get on the bike. She falls down the other side. I hear her whimper. I act nonchalant, as if I don’t see her. I encourage her to ride in front of me. She gets back on.
I secretly think, yes you did it. That is my big girl. I refrain from telling her such. If I give her praise for every little movement, where will it end? She will expect praise for every minute achievement. I hold back.
I am waiting to see what adventures she will have in the future. I want to encourage her to do her best. I praise her for the good she does. I am careful not to tell her how amazing she is at every turn. She really is. She is a dare devil. She got on her bike and started to ride with only one hand on the handlebars. I think it gives her more confidence to not always seek praise from others. There is no telling how far she will go.