It seems almost cruel. Especially to a sweet little boy.
Last week was our week-long season of Spring where we live. We celebrated by planting flowers, pulling out the kiddie pool and buying the long-anticipated new bike for our oldest son. Which meant that the older, smaller bike immediately was inherited by the younger, smaller brother. He couldn't have been more delighted. As soon as we strapped on those training wheels he was off! Well, after several pushes from his mother. We watched as he circled slowly around the cul-de-sac past our house. Weee! We heard him say. The rest of the day was spent on that bike, circling slowly, around and around.
Yesterday. The little guy wakes up excited to ride his new bike. Well, it's Sunday, and we get to do other activities on Sunday, so we explain that he needs to wait until Monday. He nods, trying hard to be patient.
Today. Today's the day! The first words out of his mouth were not his usual launch about the urgency of eating right away, but are declarations to ride his bike! I convince him to have his breakfast first. He agrees. After his oatmeal, he manages to ride around the circle a couple of times, then comes in, defeated. It's cold, he says.
And so it is. And so it will remain (with chance of showers) for the rest of the week. I'm trying to decide if printing out a picture of a bike for him to color would be therapeutic or torture.
