Bryan was walking home Monday afternoon and saw our neighbor's maids talking with a woman outside. The woman they were with was walking to each house around the park talking to people about something she'd found in the park. Bryan's understanding of Spanish is limited, but he perked up when he heard the word "bicicleta."
Yep. Davis bike has been recovered. We revealed it to him on Monday night and Davis flipped out. He was so shocked and happy. He ran to jump on it and I stopped him: “WAIT. NO SIR. You lose your bike privileges for two weeks for losing it.” Then he was sad again, but not as much. J
Davis kept saying
“Thank you Mr. Bryan, Thank you, Mommy.” I crossed my arms and furrowed my brow. And I was like “No Davis.
Don’t thank me. You need to get on your knees and thank GOD that you have
your bike back. Because (S)HE is the only reason you have that thing.”
(And I don’t drop the God bomb without just cause.)
Okay y'all. This doesn't happen here. Stuff that gets left in public spaces gets gone. My only guess is that the collective sympathy and hope radiating from friends and family back home moved the Universe to work in Davis' favor.
(Some of you even offered to donate to a "Davis bike fund" - Wow.)
Our family was reeling at the loss of his bike. It was/is a means of transportation for us, not just fun. We weren't sure what to do about getting around. So I'm happy it returned. It makes life so much easier for us.
All the musings I made in my last post still stand. It's the same, but it's different. Personally, I had come to terms with the idea of letting him fail and had embraced the powerful lesson it would teach him. So I'm just shrugging my shoulders, shaking my head and then just smiling because he is happy again.
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