I was out walking the dog, one beautiful sunny day. I began to form a great big smile as the cutest sight approached me. It was a father and son, on a bicycle ride. The dad was on his great big racing bike with all of its fancy gears; the little boy was on his tiny two wheeler that may or may not have sported training wheels. The father was criticizing his young son. “Come on, T.J. You have to stay with me or you will get lost. Let’s move it.”
My anger flared up, but I quickly swallowed it down. I didn’t want to make the situation worse for little T.J. who was bright red and sweaty, as his little legs pumped up and down on his brilliant blue bike.
“Hey, you idiot!” is what I wanted to say to his father. “You moron! Look how many times T.J. has to spin his tiny wheels for each time that you spin your wheels once. He is working three times as hard as you are, you big fat jerk.” Yes. That is what I wanted to say, but instead this is what came out of my mouth.
“Go, little man! Someday you’ll have a big bike like your daddy’s and you’ll have gears and fancy stuff, and then you can beat him! Go, T.J., go!” I cheered him on, and felt my heart break as his self-centered father didn’t get the too-subtle message. He just yelled at T.J. to catch up. But T.J. heard me, and he managed a small smile as he passed by.