WWJD… if He fell off His scooter?

I have one son who hyperventilates at the idea of blood:  “But it might bleed, Mommy!” and one who I’m convinced wouldn’t flinch at the sight of blood spouting from an artery.  

Yesterday afternoon, the sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, it was lovely… and so we headed outside to take advantage of the beautiful Spring weather.  I worked in the garden while the boys rode their scooters up and down the sidewalk.  The afternoon calm was shattered by shouts of, “Mom!  Mom!  Connor’s hurt really bad!”  It was the hypochondriac.  Hearing no cries or screams from the supposed injured one, I responded in my reassuring-Mommy tone, “He’s fine” and went back to tending the peonies.  Upon seeing him, however, he wasn’t fine.  He had scraped his arm from his wrist to his shoulder, punctured his hand, and scraped his side.  We went inside, cleaned him up, had a bowl of ice cream, and all was well.  Not a tear was shed.

This afternoon in the car, the boys’ conversation turned to riding scooters.  Connor said, “I got hurt on my scooter, remember.”  After a brief pause, he continued.  “I didn’t cry.  I was very brave.  Like Jesus.  Jesus was brave.  He died on the cross and He was very brave.  I’m not that brave, but I am brave, right Mommy?”

Six years of bedtime Bible stories, Sunday School, AWANA, and Vacation Bible School… and this kid’s clearly been listening, even when he’s dancing, and talking, and jumping, and laughing (at something entirely unrelated).  That’s my little guy, always listening and always thinking:  today about what Jesus would do… if He happened to fall off His scooter!