Skip to main content

A Parent Narrative! "The Tricycle Tip-Over"


Guest Blog
By Stephanie Lauren Schultz

“La, la, la, la, la.” Pam was humming to herself quietly as she pedaled her tricycle around the neighborhood. She weaved back and forth across the sidewalk, sped up and down driveways and steered her way down the street. 


Being four years old, Pam’s tricycle was among her top five favorite possessions. When she got bored with her parents and other adults in her life, she could always hop on her tricycle and ride around the neighborhood.

One particular day when Pam was riding her tricycle, she decided to try something new. The road that led into her driveway was a hill. She decided the best way to get the most speed would be to start at the top of the hill and peddle as fast as she could into her driveway.

“Ready, set, GO!” Pam said to herself and she started down the hill on her tricycle at slowly at first, but gaining speed. After a few yards, Pam felt like she was flying. The wind was ripping through her hair and she felt that rush of adrenaline that tends to come when you’re a four year old racing into your driveway at top speed.

The next thing Pam knew, the closed garage door was just three feet away from her and it was getting closer by the second. She started to rethink this grand idea! She found herself hurtling straight towards the garage door, her feet off the peddles and scraping the ground in an effort to stop.

The pain was extreme. There was a dullness on her chin and red stains on her shirt. She ran in the house to the mirror, crying loudly, and saw that her chin was completely split open. She was panicked to see the flaps of skin hanging off her chin.

Pam was rushed to the hospital in her neighbor’s car (her dad had her family’s at work) and she remembers looking up at the doctor as he was preparing to sew her skin back together. “This won’t hurt very much, I promise,” the doctor said.

That proved to be a false statement because Pam felt the needle pulling the thick black thread through her skin and choked back tears, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain.

The stitches were able to sew Pam’s skin back together just fine and she got away from the tricycle accident with nothing but a tiny scar on her chin, visible only if one looks very closely. 

As I do my internships and work with young students who are burdened with ASD, ADHD and other non-verbal learning disorders, I think back to the times we all had of simply being a kid. Every child has painful situations they must manage in an age appropriate manner. I hope I can "stitch" the fragmented lives of these young children with the skills necessary to lead a healthy fulfilling life.   

Editors Note: Stephanie is my oldest daughter. She is graduating from college this year with a duel degree in Elementary Education and Special Education. She has always had a kind heart and will no doubt positively impact the lives of many children and their families. I asked her if she would be willing to post on my blog. This is a family story she has grown up with.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lessons I learned from a childhood experience with bullying

By Stephen C. Schultz The dew around the window was starting to bead up. In a classic case of chaos theory, the little beads of water gave way to gravity and randomly bounced and bumped their way to the window sill like a steal marble in a pinball game. There was a small pool of water in the cracked and peeling beige paint. I sat facing the window, staring at the small engraved stone nestled in the flower beds. There weren’t many flowers at this time of year. Mostly rhododendrons and Oregon grapes reaching skyward from the damp bark mulch that covered the planter area.   The month of January in Eugene Oregon was filled with days and days of mist and fog.   In fact, pretty much from October through June was filled with fog, rain, mist, showers, freezing rain and occasionally snow. The local weathermen didn’t bother with predictions about the chance of precipitation; they took pride in developing new adjectives to describe the type of precipitation and how much you can expect.

Perfectly Wicked - A new take on an old fairy tale!

Guest Blogger Amanda Schultz Age 15 There she was…hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow. Standing by the window, washing dishes, whistling while she worked. Snow White. I shudder with disgust every time I hear her name. What kind of a name is that anyway? “Snow White”. Gahhh, it’s a name that practically begs to be made fun of. Yet, there she goes, frolicking around like she owns the Enchanted Forest. No. I’m the Queen. I’m in charge. My magic mirror was mistaken. I’m the Fairest of them all, not that sorry excuse for a princess. One bite from my poison apple and that air-head will be so ugly not even her mother could love her. And I will be the Fairest once again! I suppose that I should rewind a little bit. It wasn’t always a competition between Snow White and me. In fact, back in the day, we had a nice little system going on. I would rule the kingdom and practice my magic, while Snow did the dishes and tended the garden. She stayed out of my w

"Sugar and Spice" - A Child's Kindness

By Stephen C. Schultz I recall a childhood rhyme that went something like this; “…sugar and spice and everything nice…that’s what little girls are made of!” As the father of three daughters and one son, there is no doubt about the truthfulness of that saying. I was in San Diego a couple of weeks ago with my family. We were down at Seaport Village right on the bay having lunch. It was a beautiful day, sun shining, light breeze and we were eating on an outside deck. We were engaged in a conversation about what we wanted to do later that day when I noticed my youngest daughter, a fifth grader, was focused on something else. So, I turned to see what she was gazing at. She was following the movements of a transient man who had walked up onto the deck and was systematically searching the garbage cans for food. He was looking in each receptacle and reaching in to move the contents around. At one can, his hand came out with a partially eaten sandwich of some kind. He reached back