Biker Chick

At roughly 5:00 pm on January 17, 2017, Martin Luther King Day, you learned to ride a bike.   I know because I was there.   The weapon of choice: a $40 no-brand pink and white girls cruiser from Academy that's been collecting dust in the garage since Christmas 2015.

We'd been working on it off and on for a few weeks now.   It hadn't been going well.   No tears, just frustration.     Mechanically, you had everything right.   You understood the idea of pedaling, steering, and the idea that going faster would make it less likely to wobble.   You just never learned to balance on the bike.    It was one, two pumps, then a dramatic lurch to the side (usually the right) where I would have grab you before the pavement got you.   (That was my biggest fear- that you would get scraped up bad enough that you'd get scared and angry at me for letting you fall.)

But we kept at.   I can't tell you how many blocks I jogged with the back of your shirt balled up in my fist pulling you one way or the other as you weaved along.   Enthusiasm for learning waxed and waned.   But you'd see a friend peddling around easy as breathing and you'd start asking to go again.   I'm getting good enough at parenting to watch your face and moods that I could tell it hurt you that you couldn't ride a bike around your friends, and then just wait for you to come to me.   It paid off.  

So, yesterday, you strapped on the Barbie helmet just sat on the bike a while.   Then you got it going down the driveway before I had to catch you.    Then you made it half a block with my hand on you shoulder.   Then a full block with me touching the seat.   Then another as I took my hand away.     We made it all the way down to the park with only two stops/narrowly averted crashes.    Then we hunted some Pokemon (which is another story) while you got your legs back.  

On the way back, you told me you could make it two blocks.    After one you started complaining about your arms being tired.  But we agreed, in flight, with you whispering under your breath- faster, faster- to just making it one more block.   Which turned into two, then three and finally you were turning (with a little help) onto our street, five blocks from the park, and skidding to a stop next to the Crown Vic.    That was it- the exact moment you learned to ride a bike.    You might not remember it, but I will.

You ran inside to get Mommy, who, I think, cried a little as she videoed you riding down our street by yourself.   You're a quiet, humble kid, but I could see how proud of yourself you were.     And now I'm leaving work early to get home early so we can get a little biking in before dinner.