Day 1: After a week of riding his new scooter, Mo decides to jump on his two-wheeler bike -- sans training wheels. He takes off, down hills, around corners, an instant professional.
That whole business with mom or dad running behind and holding the seat? Guess we missed out.
Day 2: Mo begs to start riding his bike as soon as he wakes at 6:30 a.m. He spends as much time as humanly possible on the little bike -- stopping only begrudgingly to eat and use the bathroom.
Day 3: I take Mo and a buddy to the park on their bikes. I learn that running behind them with a stroller isn't gonna cut it. When he's on a bike, I need to be on a bike or get left in the dust.
After this one-mile ride, Mo begs for a longer excursion.
Day 5: We plan to take Mo a couple miles down the bike path and back -- but he insists we keep going and going. Our bike path is a loop around a lake, so after about six miles we commit to going the whole way.
Mo rides his little two-wheeler for 16 miles, only stopping once to play at a park. Took about two hours total.
Day 6: Mo complains about "fizzy wrists" from his long ride the previous day. I buy him biking gloves.
Mo starts riding one-handed.
He also gets out a rope, with the brilliant idea to tow Curly behind him on the tricycle. Yeah, I don't think so.
Day 7: I decide to sign up Mo (and Dad and I, Curly in the trailer) for his first official bike ride, a breast cancer fundraiser. 10 miles. Should be a breeze.
He also ignores my warnings, convinced he's seasoned enough to ride off curbs. He also tries riding no-handed. (I ride no-handed a lot. Great example there Mom.)
Day 8: Mo learns the meaning of road rash. He takes a hill way too fast, misses the tight curve, flips over the handle bars.
Surface level damage only, no broken bones. Yet.
Any ideas what he might try tomorrow?
1 year ago