Day 9: The Scooter
This morning, they came back from a run to the grocery store with a scooter. "It has two wheels!" M. says dancing around me. His old scooter had three - two in front and one below the brake in back. It was also bright, neon green, and made of plastic. Matt unfolds the handlebar from the platform and stands it up. It is black and made of durable metal. Instantly, I approve. Just that morning, I had been thinking M. needed both a stimulus and a reward after the upheaval of the week at home, the loss of being with friends and his teachers, i.e. the rug pulled out from under his six year old's world. It's still early and cold, so I stand behind the storm door and watch him test it out up and down the street, Matt on his bicycle following close behind. In his shiny black helmet, he looks like a small bobble head doll atop this bigger scooter, but he finds his bearings and glides past me with a shy grin. "Look how sharp it turns," he cries, his voice tinny a
