This morning I was reading my book on the park bench and there was a young boy who was learning to rollerblade with his mom. He went back and forth on the path (in the middle of this photo), for almost the entire time I was there (about an hour). He fell, a lot. Like, very very often. But every time he got back up, by himself. His mom was right beside him but she never helped him get him. She was there for moral support and occasionally helped him fix his knee pad when it came undone. He enjoyed himself the entire time. He did show some frustration, but mostly he never stopped smiling. And near the end he learned that if he rollerbladed on the grass, he could avoid falling so often. It would slow him down, but at least he didn't have to pick himself back up again.
