What scrapes prove.

This weekend, we were outside with the boys while they rode around on their bikes. Over the course of about half an hour, Spencer, who never falls, managed to take two spills: one on the asphalt and one on some rocks. He wasn’t seriously hurt, but both legs got a number of mild scrapes. When I was cleaning them off, he offered a sophisticated medical opinion: “Scrapes are bad, daddy.”

After a moment of thought, I asked him why they were bad. Looking at me like I was a bit of an idiot, he said, “Because they hurt.”

“Of course,” I said. “But how would you make sure you don’t get any?”

“Well, if I didn’t ride my bike, then I wouldn’t fall down and scrape my knees again.”

“That’s true, “I replied. “But does it hurt enough that you want to give up riding your bike for the rest of your life?”

“No, not really.”

“See, Spencer, I know that scrapes are bad. And I’m sure that some little boys don’t have any at all. If this is because they got really lucky, that’s okay. But if it’s because their parents don’t let them do anything risky, that’s really bad. If we didn’t let you do anything risky, what would be left for you to do?”

“Nothing!”

“Right. So you might say that even thought scrapes are bad, they’re evidence that you’re actually living an adventure-filled life, which is good, right?”

“Yes.”

“So in a weird way, scrapes are actually sort of a good thing, aren’t they?”

“I guess. But they still hurt.”

“I know.”