One thing I hope he doesn't inherit from me

Of course I would like to think that Andrew will inherit some good qualities from me.  I hope he is compassionate, kind to others, honest, and giving.

But there is one thing that I hope he doesn't get from me and that would be my coordination (or lack thereof).

As a child let's just say I was a little accident prone.  At around 3 1/2 years old I decided it would be a good idea to stick my index finger in a bike chain and give the pedal a twirl. I'm not sure why I was unsupervised around a bike at  3 1/2, but anyway, my finger was stuck and had to be pried out with a screwdriver.  There is a picture of me with my finger in a big splint as I happily eat an ice cream cone.

Two years later I was ice skating at the local outdoor rink with my sisters.  Back in that time I guess it wasn't unheard of to drop your three kids off for the afternoon and come back later to get them.  Anyway, I fell down and was unable to get up or out of the way before a grown man tripped over me and fell on my leg, breaking both bones in  my lower leg and dislocating my ankle.  He tried to get me to stand up and when I couldn't he hauled ass out of there. The rink had to call my mom to get me and take me to the hospital and I ended up with a cast from my toes all the way to my mid thigh - tons of fun for a kid in kindergarten.  Oh, and my sister's solution to me having trouble getting down the steps in our house with my crutches was to put me in the laundry basket and push me down the steps. Amazingly I didn't get injured any more from that.

Two years after that my sister and I were swinging from the top crossbar of our rusty swing set. My hands got tired so I let go - landing with my arms behind me. I heard a snap and when I stood up my elbow bent in the opposite direction that it should. My sister saw it and screamed. My dad came running down the hill, took one look at me and grabbed me to take me to the hospital. I didn't cry until I heard I had to go to the hospital - I remembered how awful it was when I broke my leg.  I ended up being in the hospital for two weeks with my arm in traction - strung up like a side of beef.

I think this was about the time that people started to give my parents the side eye.  They actually were questioned a little bit. People thought maybe there was some abuse going on. Nope - I was just an active and clumsy kid.  There were many bumps, bruises, and stitches that were part of my childhood.

And I apparently have not grown out of this.

This past weekend I was practicing riding J's bike because I was going to do a 20 mile ride with a friend on Sunday.  I was trying to get used to the whole shoe clip/pedal thing, which is harder than it looks.  J was out there with me (Andrew was napping) and was giving me pointers.  The first time I tried to stop I successfully got my right foot out and down, but when I was trying to get my left foot out I leaned towards the left and fell over, the bike falling on top of me.  J got me up and I got back on. I had a couple successful attempts at stopping before I had another epic wipeout.  After laying in the street for a minute I got up and we went inside.

No major injuries, but my hand and wrist were sore:

It looked worse in person - it was a nice shade of purple around those red marks

And I have some bruising on my leg:

The one on my thigh is a nice shade of green now. The ones on my knee are about gone.

There is another bruise on my back, but I didn't get a picture of it.

So yeah - I'm still a klutz and probably don't make it through a single day without bumping into something or whacking my knee on my desk.  Man, I hope the munchkin doesn't inherit my coordination. If he does we're gonna need some good insurance.