No helmet!

For weeks now my tiny tyrant has been talking about bicycles.  "That my bicycle.  I want bicycle.  Me ride bicycle..."  You get the idea.

(For the record, the tiny tyrant is N.  B is lovingly referred to as the diapered dictator.)

E and I get a fabulous idea to get N a starter bike.  We went to the bike shop for a completely unrelated matter and asked the bike experts there what was the best plan.  Trike?  Training wheels?  How do we do this people?

The experts at the bike shop actually recommended something called a balance bike.  Go on, Google it.  You'll learn about a bazillion brands and things regarding learning to balance over learning to pedal yadda yadda yadda.  We went here after extensive research and ordered an awesome green balance bike for N.  We also went out and purchased him a Cars helmet (complete with Lightning McQueen) and a bell.  He is S-T-O-K-E-D.

The bike gets here when we're away for the weekend and is waiting for us when we get back.  E brings the box inside and the following conversation ensues:

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N: A BIKE!  That MY bike.

E: Yep buddy, this is YOUR bike!

N: My bike!  I open.

E: Let me put it together bud.

N: Tears, hysterics

E: Chill out bud!  Can you help Mommy and B unpack?  You're an awesome helper!

Me: Directing dirty look at E because we (in private) refer to N as the anti-helper.

N: I help Mommy and B!

Minutes pass with me putting things away and N and B immediately taking them back out of their assigned places again while E puts together this bike.  Seriously.  Like maybe 5 minutes.  It didn't take long.

E: Hey N!  I'm all done!  Check this out!

N: MY BIIIIIIIKEEEEEEE!

E: Yay!  Your bike!  Let's put your helmet on so you can ride it!

N: Yay!  I ride it!  Put helmet on!

E: Puts the helmet on N's head and fastens the strap under his chin.

N: Climbs on bike and grabs his helmet.  Helmet OFF.

E: We wear helmets when we ride our bikes buddy.  Remember how Mommy and Daddy wear helmets?

N: No.  Off.

E: In his best dad-is-sad-about-this-voice If we take off your helmet you can't ride your bike.

N: I get off.  No helmet.  No ride bike.

E:  Looks at me.

Me: Shrugs (I'm no help whatsoever.)
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N proceeds to get off his bike and has summarialy refused to get on again due to the helmet restriction.  I grew up riding bikes everywhere and not once did my parents enforce some kind of helmet rule (not throwing you under the bus Mom and Dad, but let's face it, my cranium wasn't protected).  I am very VERY tempted to forsake the helmet to get him to exercise the use of this $100 PUSH BIKE we got him for NO REASON OTHER THAN WE LOVE HIM.

Helmet = mandatory safety precaution.  I will not lose this battle of wills with a two year old.  This pains me.  Parenting sucks sometimes.

Time travel

I love living near a lake.  Even though we don't get out on the lake much anymore, the mere presence of the lake makes me happy inside.  I drive two miles across the lake at least twice every work day.  This drive is over a bridge that is surrounded by nothing but water, just a little above the actual water level.

For a moment or two during the drive, I'm no longer 30, driving to or from my job and responsibilities, but instead I am 7.  I'm in a 1970's era green SeaRay and my dad has just told me to keep my tips up.  My brother and I have just learned how to waterski, and my family is spending as much time as possible on Lake Travis, every weekend if we can make it happen.  At least that's how I remember it.  After we finish skiing my dad will drive us around the lake in the boat and we might even have hamburgers at the floating resturant at the marina if we're lucky.

It's just a moment, but every day I'm reminded of it. And every day that little trip back in time reminds me to happy to be right where I am in the present.

I hope I leave my kiddos with a similar memory to hang onto.  Happy father's day Daddy!