From Bull Rider to Bull

Another rainy day. Boys with unused energy. A mom scanning the minds files trying to find something to engage the boys and burn off the Cinnamon Toast Crunch of breakfast. An archived file was retrieved titled "Bullriding." That was it! I had found something that would cause my boys to sweat and keep them busy for at least half-an-hour.

Bull riding was a tradition when my oldest three children were little. I would lay in the middle of my bed on my back and one-by-one the kids would climb onto my legs. As with any good game there were rules involved. Keeping with professional bull riding rules, the kids could squeeze my legs with their legs but they could only hold on with one hand while the other hand flailed around in the air. This game quickly progressed from leisurely bull rides to bull riding tournaments. I would announce the rider, their experience, and the name of the bull they were riding. Each rider would try to last the flip-flopping eight seconds of mom's legs without being thrown onto the pillow-pile at the head of the bed.

My legs would burn as I'd bend my knees back and forth and straighten them in the air, make circular motions, and just go crazy-wild trying to release my little bull rider. Giggles and squeals followed, while the waiting riders cheered on the bull. It was always more fun to see their siblings be bucked off than last the eight seconds.

Black-eyed Bart was the most fierce of all the bulls. If he bucked you off you better scoot off the bed or he'd come after you. They all wanted to brave Black-eyed Bart, but few succeeded.

So, today it was Binyam's turn at bull riding and he thought it was a great idea. Tait resurrected Black-eyed Bart's memory and stacked the pillows to soften the fall for his little brother. Binyam was a tough rider and held on for dear life. Tait and I took turns being the bull and coming up with crazy names. It was my turn to be the bull and Tait was laughing as his scrappy brother hung on relentlessly when he said, "I wish I could still be the bull rider." Time stood still for one moment as I flashed back to my little Tait outlasting his sisters and usually winning the tournament. He rode the bull like Binyam and had the same tenacity. But his bull riding days have passed and he has been promoted to being the bull. No matter how hard he pleaded, I knew my legs couldn't handle his strength and the bull wouldn't even be able to leave the pen. Sweet boy is creeping toward manhood. It was a beautiful moment as silly tradition was passed on from one bull rider to the next. From one energy-filled brother to another. The boys laughed and I pondered the reality of my son being promoted from bull rider to bull.