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Rob's Diary Entries

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July 26, 2000

With the process of resigning from my job concluded, and "True Tales" opening tonight, my focus shifts to packing and to Rowan. Friday is a Rowan and Papa day. She stays home from day care and I don't get much other work done, particularly since she's not too keen to nap at home these days. Apparently she naps without a fuss at day care.

Anyway, we watched "Blues Clues" over breakfast, which was the standard peanut butter sandwich Rowan would eat for every meal if she had a choice. After puttering around inside for a while I got her to eat a bit of yogurt. Since she doesn't like milk, and I suspect she may not handle it well when she does drink it, I try to encourage a lot of yogurt eating. Looking at a full day of unscheduled time with my daughter was exciting. What should we do? What had I been wanting to do? Ah, the park by the river.

About a year ago, I discovered a footpath down to the riverside on the way to the video store. We're talking about the North Branch of the Chicago River, where Belmont crosses it, if anyone cares. Rowan was with me in the stroller at the time and we took what we thought would be a little detour along the river. We discovered lots of pathways and fields but it was a long walk back to our destination. Since then, I had been meaning to come back when we had more time.

Today was the day. Rowan needs the opportunity to run somewhere without streets blocking her path every few steps. I packed my back-pack with some videos to return, some water, baby sun-block, and a ball. This time we took the bike, and we got there in no time.

Rowan was delighted with the new realm to explore, but I noticed something I thought was peculiar. She didn't walk on the grass that much, preferring instead to stay on the asphalt path as she explored. Trees didn't provoke that much interest, but she really wanted to look at benches and oil-drum trash-cans. She started slapping a trash bin, and my first instinct was to pull her away. "That's dirty. Yuck." I said. Then images of myself in college, bashing away happily on a collection of these cans with a 2x4.

They are really cool, I thought. I picked up a rock and tapped on the can with it, creating a lot of noise and vibration. Wow! That was a game Rowan could get into, so now we had to cross the entire park, playing all the trash cans. We would definitely be practicing the old hand-wash routine at the first opportunity, but this was too much fun to be fussy about.

Getting Rowan back to the bike was tough. She wanted to go toward the street and the big buildings, and we had locked the bike at the back of the park. It was by the river, right next to the partially submerged wreck of some kind of boat or barge. I thought that side of the park was more interesting, but what do I know? She tried facing the direction I wanted her to go and then slowly walking backwards while smiling at me, but I'm too clever for that. It only took me a minute or so to figure out what she was up to.

Finally we got back on the bike and started down the sidewalk. I stick to the sidewalk wherever possible when Rowan is on the bike, and fortunately, Logan Square isn't the sort of neighborhood where pedestrians get too bent about sharing the path. As we rounded a bend, we came upon a back-hoe sitting long-ways in the cross-walk ahead. I couldn't see the driver behind the bucket-arm, so I was pretty sure he couldn't see me either, but I could hear the motor running. I was coming a little too fast to just stop short, so I tried to edge over the grass and down the curb to go around.

Normally this wouldn't be a difficult maneuver, and Rowan laughs when we bump over things, but the fresh construction had left a gouge in the earth next to the sidewalk and the front tire snagged in it. I felt the problem and dropped my feet to steady us, but it was too late. The back wheel came up off the ground and I lost any leverage I might have had to steady Rowan's mass. We were both going over.

The fall seemed to take forever, and I had time to mentally catalogue all of the safety precautions I had taken. The child carrier she was sitting in was the best I could find, and it provided a sort of cage around her body on three sides. She was wearing a helmet that I insisted on keeping tight, despite her initial protests. And she's tough. Oh, please let her be OK.

Crunch! We landed on our sides in the street, which was mercifully empty. I rolled over to look at Rowan, still strapped in, with her hands resting on the front bar of her seat, now sideways but still perfectly intact. "Fall!" she said excitedly, and then she began to cry. A man from the construction site ran over and helped us up, and once Rowan was upright she calmed down right away. I took a little longer to breathe easily as I adjusted my seat, which seemed to be the only thing knocked out of whack. As nervous as I was, there was no other way home, so we climbed back on the bike and finished our journey. Slowly and carefully.

Rowan's fine, and so am I, but I think I will give the bike a good once-over before we take it out again. I don't want to get lazy about safety, just because my precautions were successful.



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