Yesterday was the first day of summer vacation.
Yesterday I was trying very hard to make some of that “magic” I hear so much about, while still managing to get my work done and do those fabulous, exciting things like going for groceries because we didn’t have any food.
Yesterday afternoon my children had already decided they couldn’t stand each other, and there were tears and bickering and pouting and I gave up. “I HAVE WORK I NEED TO FINISH!” I bellowed. “YOU TWO NEED TO GO PLAY OUTSIDE. NICELY. GOOD-BYE!” And then just to rub salt in their wounds (because I’m SUCH A GOOD MOM) I blurted out, “Hey Monkey, why don’t you work on your bike for a little bit while you’re out there?”
You may recall that Monkey cannot ride a bike, and I have been trying to find him a nice pair of training wheels with the Yale logo, or whatever, so that he can take them to college with him.
The children trudged outside and I turned back to my desk with a sigh, barely glancing up when I saw each of them—through the screen door which separates my office from the garage—grab their bikes and disappear.
Then Chickadee started whooping and screaming like a crazy person, and I walked to the door just in time to see Monkey ride his bike up the driveway, easy as you please. He turned around and rode it back down again and stopped at my feet.
“Hey, Mama!” he gasped, grin splitting his face in that way that makes me want to swallow him whole and lick the sugar from my fingers, “Apparently I know how to ride my bike, now!”
Yeah, he’d just walked out there, picked up his bike, and ridden it. The end.
We kept talking about the click, you know. The moment when he’d get it. I’d begun to think we had a better chance of finding a unicorn in the woods than getting him going on that stupid bike, but I should’ve listened to my own wise words about him doing it in his own time, blah blah blah. Whatever. He rides!!
Monkey! Rides! Bike! from woulda on Vimeo.
Is he not the most adorable little drunken cyclist you’ve ever seen? Weaving and bobbing, but not falling down.
Right after this movie he started going up and down the driveway screeching, “MONKEYPANTS MCGEE DOES IT AGAIN! AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!”
(It’s possible that he inherited my melodramatic streak.)
(And yes, he does refer to himself as Monkeypants McGee; that’s not a pseudonym I made up.)
True to our word—the promise of a new, correct-size bike rather than the too-small one he has there—after he did about fifty million laps up and down the driveway, we headed out to the sports store and let him pick out a shiny new bike.
(Well, sort of. The first bike he picked out was $200. I told him it was very nice and then showed him the MUCH COOLER bike that was less than half that. Ahem.)
As Chickadee was the one who’d done the most work with him to get him to ride, and we are ALL ABOUT the bribery, we had promised her a new bike, too. She wants one with 21 speeds. Because when you’re 10, you have a NEED for SPEED(s).
We went to two different stores before dinner, scoring Monkey’s bike at the second one. The second store didn’t have a good bike for Chickadee, though, so she proceeded to have a gigantic meltdown because that store had the ONLY BIKES IN THE WORLD and we were heartlessly refusing to buy her one because WE ARE MEAN. We told her we were just waiting to find JUST the right one, but she knew the truth—that we love him more than we love her.
In other words, everything is back to normal. Phew!