Luke is going on six and was still quite content, um no actually, insistent that he needs his training wheels. Bike riding lessons without training wheels went something like this. Daddy running along side Luke, while bent over at an impossible angle and Luke death gripping the handle bars whimpering, "Don't let go Daddy, don't let go Daddy" all the while steering the bike back and forth like he was having seizures. Eventually this steering led him to "fall" off the bike. When I say fall, I mean his feet fell off the pedals onto the driveway. Look at his bike, he looks like the monkey at the fair on that teeny, tiny bike; it is so small. He couldn't hurt himself on it if he tried. But, when he did "fall" it would involve him throwing the bike across the yard, crying that "he told us so" and stomping into the house and slamming the door. I know mom and dad, you are smiling right now while reading this, thinking oh boy, her day has come. I am finally getting a taste of my own medicine. Yes, dear readers, I was a door slammer. In fact, I stomped up the stairs and slammed my door so many times that one day, my door frame just fell right off the wall into the hallway. The expression I almost sh&* my pants does not even explain the fear I felt that day. But I digress. Needless to say, Luke takes after mommy and is the most dramatic of my children. So bike lessons have been intense.
But look! It has happened. Well, sort of. He is riding on his own but only on our driveway and only if he doesn't have to turn and only until he hits the grass because he refuses to use his brakes. It is a big step though:)
And there it is, so proud. I love my little door slammer.
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