It's one of those milestones that we remember throughout the lifetime of sacrifice, fear, and hope that define parenthood. One of those video recorded moments that will bring tears to our eyes as we re-live the energy and challenge of our more spirited youth.

Today was a day that I really wished I had bought the stain remover I meant to buy last week at the grocery store, but forgot in the midst of "No, you can't have candy. No, you can't touch the helium baloon that woman's holding." Oh, and "Sssh! I don't know why those men have long hair like girls, I guess they like it that way now don't say that so loud!" Honest, cross my heart, that's how it went. I feel fortunate that I remembered which car was mine. Luckily my son pushed the alarm button on the remote to make it honk and flash right as that elderly man with the cane was in front of it. No, it's okay, I delivered CPR and it was only a mild heart attack the medics said.

But more than anything, today was a day of triumph and bonding between mother and son that will hopefully allow us to forge ahead through the battles yet to come. As the training wheels came off, I held the video recorder at ready and my husband and my son were off; my husband trying to keep pace with an akward stooped half-run, and my son pedaling and teetering nervously down the road. This was actually the third go at it. I was sure today was the day.

There were spills, and tumbles, there were expressions of hurt, exclamations of frustration, and an aching back. We had to take a break. My son's pants were filthy; grass-stained, tire rubber stained, general dirt-stained, you name it. His frown was so heavy that combined with the weight of his bicycle helmet I was afraid his head might roll right off onto the sidewalk. Which really made me laugh, isn't that mean? His knees were sore and his hands were skinned. He was ready to throw in the towel.

Noooooooo!! What about my dreams of a family trail ride? I was tired of riding at midget speed on the neighborhood sidewalks! Oh, and the look of anguish was starting to get to me, too. A quick assessment, and I told him I'd be right back. I came back downstairs and presented him with "Grippers". Bright blue-knit gloves with raised rubber baseballs designed to help a child "get a grip". And I told him, "These are Grippers. Go ahead, feel them!". And he tentatively reached out to touch the raised rubber. He pretty much thought they were the coolest things ever. I told him how much they will help him hold on to the handlebars and even protect his hands if he fell again -- with these Grippers, he would be riding on all two wheels in no time!

With newfound lightheartedness that only a child can muster, he bounded back towards his steed and took charge of the situation. Eager to obey (me), my husband quickly made his way back out (grabbing his back and hunched a bit). Well, there were more lopsided oopses, banged-up ow's, and a couple more oh-my-back's, but in the end, I captured his shining moment. I thought his face might split in half, and those dimples were craters as he flew by me with a whoosh! of wind and flash of color, peddaling as fast as his little four-year old legs could take him on all two wheels.

I wonder if he'll remember this moment in 15 or 20 years. Hopefully he'll just keep persevering, come what may. And I'll make sure to remind him of his mother's clever "Grippers" when he brings his first girlfriend around.