Hard day biking around Whistler. The little guy didn't want to ride to Lost Lake, but of course, I did. So we made it there... well, I did, he stayed back a bit to take his chances with the bears. With some grumbling and tears.
On the way back to the cabin, we had one last hill to climb.
The little guy stops.
"I feel like you and Daddy think I am a scab and you are trying to rip me off your skin," he says.
Wow! I loved that.
"That's a great way of putting it," I said. I was truly impressed with his choice of words and ability to speak so eloquently about how he felt.
I think we have an English major in our midst. An author. At very least, a poetic grouchy kid, that I know for sure.
The conversation flowed better from there and now, after an onion bagel and some fresh strawberries (with the bike shut away in the garage) things are good now... as always, but I just had to share this one.