No More Training Wheels!

Santa delivered new bikes to my boys for Christmas…and my 4-year-old’s was equipped with training wheels.  He’s been riding with training wheels for a couple years now, so about three days ago, when my 5-year-old niece was down from Denver, I took the three of them to the bike park.  And, that’s when a joint decision was made between them and me that the training wheels would be removed.

Across the street from the cement bike park (not a good choice for learning to ride a 2 wheeler), is a huge soccer field with a sloping grassy hill at one end.  My niece repeated numerous times to my 4-year-old that she would hold onto his seat while he was learning…as long as he went slow.  He shouldn’t worry about anything.

Well, once at the hill, with my baby on his bike, facing down what seemed to his mother a very steep, unforgiving crash trap, I announced that I would be the one holding on to the seat. 

Not the 5-year-old.

And, hold on I did.  The entire way down.  It was as if my right hand was glued to the back of his seat and my left hand to his left handlebar.  There was no letting go.  Never.  I kept thinking, “Let go!  Let go!”  But that message did not travel from my brain to my hands.  It was blocked by my heart.

So, at the bottom, I motivated, “Way to go!  That was a good practice!”

And, at the half-way point up the hill, I told my older son and my niece that they could help this time.  We positioned the bike and the rider facing downhill.  My niece held the seat, my older son held the left handle bar.  And, 12 feet later, They Let Go.  It was very clear that they had utmost confidence in him and none of the mother’s-love-this-is-my-baby-thing going on. 

They just let go!  That was it!  And, off he rode into oblivion. 

None of us spoke.  We couldn’t, our jaws were hanging near our knees.

Then, he crashed.  And within about one second, our shock wore off. 

The kids sprinted toward him like my sister running away from a rattlesnake:  Hands flailing high in the air, feet barely touching the ground, screaming “YOU DID IT!!!!  YOU DID IT!!!!!”  Then dog piling him and his bike, still screaming and cheering…meanwhile he’s shouting, “Ow!  Mom!  My Arm!  They’re Smashing My Arm!!!”

And, following in their footsteps, I ran and whooped and jumped and cheered and bear hugged him and then…checked his arm….and took him back up the hill for another round.

–  The Proud Goat Cheese Lady

About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, a flock of egg-laying chickens and two pet bunnies. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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One Response to No More Training Wheels!

  1. Melina says:

    There will be so many “letting go” moments for you. May you handle the others as well as this one.

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