Grace - it's a family name...

We spent the morning at the park yesterday. I piled Drew and the dog into the back of the car, and threw the bike in there, too. It had been too long since I've just spent some quality play time with my kid, and I needed some kind of antidote to my Spring Fever.

With Drew on two wheels, we (me and the dog) spent most of our time and energy chasing him as he wove through trees and up and down hills and skidded to a stop in piles of dirt just so he could leave a skid mark.

The kid is a bike-riding phenom. I don't mean to sound proud. In fact, I will offer up "Exhibit A - as in ART" to prove that ALL of his skills reside in the "Gross Motor" section of his brain.

The "Fine Motor Skills" division... well, let's just say that one of his friends drew him a picture the other day. It was a picture of Drew. She'd drawn him with a face, eyes, nose, mouth, ears, hair, a body, two arms, two legs, and various decorative elements.

This, on the other hand, is what my son drew for me today:



His description of the picture when I asked? "I don't know, but I used yellow TWO TIMES, Mommy!"

Anyway.. So back to balance and coordination. He walked, ran, climbed, and rode everything early.

Which got me to thinking... I'm sure glad God had two pools of genes to draw from when creating this little guy.

When I was a toddler, I fell off the back of some bleachers while watching my dad play softball. My mom says that I somehow swallowed my tongue. I have no idea... except that it was pretty scary for her.

A few months later, as the story goes, I fell out the door of an RV and ate a mouthful of gravel.

In first grade, I sprained my ankle playing "Red Rover".

In high school, I sprained my knee while jogging directly into a parked trailer.

Several years and many mishaps later, I found myself in the emergency room after an unfortunate roller skating debacle that left me with chronic back pain to this day.

"Hello. My name is Jennifer. But you can call me Grace."

So, it shouldn't have surprised my husband in the slightest, when, at 5:15 this morning he was awakened by a cry for help and a loud thud.

It was dark and the dog was being stealthy.

I never saw it coming... but apparently I was moving pretty fast... because I tripped over our 120 lb beast and went down hard. My wrists and knees caught the brunt of the fall, and I just stayed there for several minutes. Just sat there on all fours, taking inventory of what hurt and what didn't.

My husband asked if he could help in any way. But his head never left the comforts of the pillow, and I questioned the sincerity of his offer.

I'm happy to report that I sustained no serious injuries. My sore shoulders should loosen up within a few days.

But it does make me ever-so-grateful that my son seems to have escaped the heritage of clumsiness from my side... (and so glad that my parents didn't buy me a bike when I was 3!)