Some time ago, we were given rollerboards for the kids. If you don’t know what a rollerboard is, don’t worry. Neither did I. A rollerboard, it turns out, is a square plastic platform, about 2 feet on a side, sitting on four wheels. The wheels are on pivots so the boards can roll in pretty much any direction.

The idea is that the kids lie on them on their bellies and use their hands and feet to propel themselves around the house.

There is however, one rule that is strictly and loudly enforced by She Who Must Be Obeyed: no standing on the rollerboards. It’s a good rule. The rollerboards are treacherous things that shoot out from beneath your feet with no warning whatsoever.

The other day, we were in the kitchen getting dinner ready when I heard a loud thud followed by “OUCH!”. I ran over to the living room in time to see my oldest standing up slowly. He was rubbing his bottom. The roller board was about 5 feet away.

“I fell” he said.

“You fell?” I asked, looking meaningfully at the rollerboard.

“Yeah, I was…” He stopped himself, thought for a second, and then continued. “I was…um…lying on the board and I fell and hurt…um…my bottom…”

His voice kind of trailed off as he spoke. Even he knew how lame it sounded.

“They can be tricky things, those rollerboards.” I said, walking away.

He nodded, still rubbing his backside and trying not to wince.