I seem to have a history of telling people they are fine when they really are not. I recall a time in high school after Latin class when my best friend, SarahRyan Brady, and I were rushing down to the cafeteria so we wouldn't get stuck in a huge lunch line. I was focused and determined. All of a sudden, I hear, "Cina...stop! My stomach. I can't walk." I looked back to find her hunched over walking at a snail's pace. I did what I had to do; I grabbed her hand and excitedly insisted, "Come on! You're fine!" And whisked her down into the front of the lunch line. To this day, she never lets me forget that I did that to her when she was, in fact, not fine.
Since the weather has been so nice here lately, I decided that it was time to pull out the bikes and go for a ride with the girls. I figured we would go around the block once or twice and enjoy the sunshine. We got to the end of our street and Kinsey says, "Mom, we need to go back. My legs are killing me! It hurts." I insist, "Come on! You're fine! We just haven't been outside all winter. You just need some exercise." And we continue our journey around the block. When we got all the way around, she was still saying her legs hurt so we ended our bike trip. The girls both ran inside and I began cleaning up toys outside. As I was putting Kinsey's bike away, I grabbed the back tire. Upon a closer look, I realized she had two flat tires on her bike. Thus, the reason her legs were hurting so bad on our ride. Oops!
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