Except it was nowhere to be seen. I looked outside and saw my son, all 3 feet 10 inches of him, trembling on my board, which he’d placed in the grass. His eyes were darting from a nearby horizon to his own feet, carefully navigating some imagined scenario. I walked over and asked him to bring what was now “our” skateboard to the sidewalk. Together, with me holding on to his shoulders, we wheeled up and down our slanted driveway, frequently running into a bush or the garage door, our brief rides full of laughter. In 20 minutes, he experienced everything from euphoria to panic, and when he got off the skateboard he seemed rejuvenated, different, as if some long-held secret had finally been revealed to him and did not disappoint. “Can we do that again?”