I hope you never have to experience what I did yesterday. I watched my little three year old boy get hit by a car.
We were riding our bikes to the farmers market, crossing a street in the crosswalk. I always pull in to the middle of the street, then wait for both kids to cross the street. Anna was in front of me, and I think I went a little further than the middle of the street before stopping to wait for Eric. I don’t know why, I think I either thought he was closer behind me, or I felt safe since we were crossing at a crosswalk and the light was with us. In any case, I stopped about halfway through the adjacent lane, and looked back to wait for Eric.
I saw the car start to turn in to the cross walk, right where Eric was riding. I’m shaking my head no no no even as I type this. I started screaming “NO WAIT STOP NO NO!” but he kept right on turning. In that flash of an instant, it occurred to me that all of my fears as a parent were coming true right then. I see Eric get pulled down, but then I can’t see him any more, and I’m running and screaming at the top of my lungs. The car finally stops 10' later (I measured the scrape marks today), and Eric is pinned under his bike, the back tire of the bike is under the car’s front tire. I can’t get him out, I bang on the hood of the car and scream BACK UP BACK UP BACK UP! I’m a little fuzzy at this point. I’m not sure when I stopped screaming,