in the blink of an eye

Last night, as we were waiting to cross the corner of 12th and University, we heard a thud. A really loud THUD. I looked over and saw a bicycle flying up in the air, as person hit the street, a cab in between the two. For a moment, everything stopped. Then several people ran to help. The bike was totalled, both wheels twisted and torqued. The rider, assuring everyone he was ok, picked it up and walked away. The cab driver just sat there for a couple of minutes—stunned. We saw some friends across the street and stopped for a moment to compare notes on what we had just seen (and chat about the off-broadway auditions Alice had been running all week). I took the accident as an opportunity for a real life lecture about safety on wheels and potential dangers lurking at every corner in the city. Jack said, "ok mom," hopped on his scooter and jumped off the curb. Iz froze. And started sobbing about how she could have been killed, might be killed, would never ride again . . . totally and complete panic. Jon told me to leave her and stick with Jack, that he'd handle this particular meltdown. 3 minutes later, my phone rang. "Do you have tissues? She's got a bloody nose." Her first, ever. Jack and I circled back and saw Iz, covered in blood, back in the saddle (more literally, back on her scooter) crossing 5th Ave. She had blood on her legs, arms, hands, shorts, shirt—it was still dripping down her face. She called herself the bloody scooter and flew down the street, doing tricks the whole way home. Lesson learned? Bloody noses trump panic attacks.