The Boy On His Bike

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Today I called an audible. For you nonfootball people (like me) that’s the moment when the quarterback makes a conscious decision to change the play just moments before its set to begin.

This morning I called the dad version of an audible—a dadible. It’s a technical term I promise. But you can’t look it up. You’ll just have to trust me. Also, you owe me $3 every time you use it.

My oldest son Ethan had been dreading an event at school all week. All week we had been trying to encourage him to embrace it and have fun. The event involves kids riding their bicycles at school. Something he hasn’t really worked on a lot. So he was nervous about it. And in his nervousness he wanted to avoid it.

I know you get that. We all sometimes long to avoid the things we dread. But we can’t. We can fight the internal dread. We can run from it. Or we can nod our head with honest recognition, offer to shake hands with it, and sit down to sort it out.

I’ve not always been the face-my-problems kind of guy. Mostly because I didn’t know how—and to a lesser extent I was intimidated by why. But God-willing my kids will be. And Ethan is the oldest so he gets to go first.

Step one: identify the source. I needed to figure out what was causing the problem. In Ethan’s case it was nervousness about his bike.

Step two: identify the catalyst. Source means starting point, but even a starting point has a cause. Ethan was nervous about his bike because of a lack of skill riding it. The catalyst was the size of the bike. It wasn’t too big. It was too small.

We got our son a junior style chainless learning bike two years ago. In growing boy time it might as well have been 6 years ago. He has grown like a weed since then! And his old bike is TINY. So he felt bad about it. He was intimidated by this tiny thing because it held him back.

We do that sometimes too don’t we? We let a tiny thing become a big thing on our way to doing a potentially cool thing. So instead we do nothing. Or we do something worse than nothing. We don’t have to. And once I identified the catalyst of my son’s disdain for the fun event I didn’t do nothing. I called the dadible.

Step three: don’t do nothing. Unless nothing is the thing you’re supposed to do to make it better. But that’s rare.

I bought Ethan a new bike. That’s right. I went to Walmart, found a shiny new Spider-Man bicycle, and took it to him at the school event. It wasn’t in the budget for this month. I’m sorry Dave. But I did it anyways.

Ethan had a blast. And you know what? He did well. He took right to it. He rode that bike. He forgot all about the possible pain he had feared all week. He was too excited about the new and the opportunity.

Don’t fear what’s not there yet. Don’t make a hotrod out of a hot wheel. And don’t avoid the small stuff that feels like big stuff, or the big stuff that is actually big stuff.

Face your problems like a boy on his bike. Just keep peddling. You got this.