I was in the bathroom getting ready for work when I heard the noise. BUMP, BUMP, CRASH! After each THUD, I turned off the water and listened carefully. No screams, no cries, no shrieks of terror, it’s all good. I turned the water back on and went about my business. Then there was a knock on the door. It was Saadia, her face was beet red and blotchy, but no tears. I asked her what happened and she tells me, “Little girls can’t fly!”
I stare at her for a full minute, trying to figure out how she learned such an important lesson, then I casually say “Yes, that’s true, but how did you find out?” She tells me that she thinks she broke her ankle and her shoulder and the wall, but she never tells me how she did it. I ask her again. She looked at me nervously, then said that she will show me.
I follow her back to my room, where she climbs up on the bed, braces herself against the wall, then runs at top speed to the end of the king sized mattress, and takes a flying leap into the air! I swear she was in the air for a full ten seconds! She was perfectly parallel to the floor, arms out in front of her, back arched, feet almost pointing at the ceiling. A split second before she hits the floor, she pulls up and plants her feet hard onto the carpet. She almost stuck the landing, but the momentum sent her lurching back into the air, where her body jerked to the side, then crashed down into the wall, about 2.3 centimeters from the edge of the TV stand.
I can honestly say that this is the first time in nearly three years, that I have ever been stunned. I stood there, not breathing, or blinking, or thinking. My child, my wonderfully intelligent little girl, just propelled herself through the air, in an attempt to fly. I’m still shaking my head.