And yet I can't help but chuckle when I think about it.
One of Coco's friends recently got a scooter. He was riding it at the playground, down the sloping path. It was getting late and the mom was caught in the danger zone of a tired, obsessed kid. Any mention of home would make him crankier and crankier and yet everyone except the kid knows that tiredness+crankiness=lessened coordination. The inevitable happened: he lost balance and slowly tilted more and more and finally fell. No real damage. He was going slow and wearing a helmet. Still, tears and howling were called for, everyone agreed. The mom and I were trying not to chuckle to audibly because we had witnessed the slow-motion horror in the kid's expression.
But then. As the kid was howling and running to his mom, it happened. Apparently he was so distraught that he had to run with head tilted back and eyes squinted shut. And, about two steps from his mother's arms, he veered too far and caromed off the park bench.
And now the tears were justified.
As, I venture to say, is my glee.