Bliss on a pink two-wheeler

I sparkled. Yes. I absolutely sparkled in my joy of watching the Peanut's accomplishments.

Yesterday afternoon, after we had our highly-nutritious dinner (fresh from Costco's deli) of chicken and penne Alfredo, I took Peanut outside to burn off some energy and enjoy the day. It was a perfectly beautiful day: clear blue sky, cool gentle breeze blowing, and lots of golden vitamin-D rich sunshine, all in a package 70 degree deal.

In a word: perfect.

After a long winter of steel gray days and endless drizzle (a.k.a. Northwest sunshine) that has enough humidity to chill you to the bone, a day like yesterday is a gift from Above. We must (or rather I have to...) cherish such days--we need squirrel away the acorns of memory to pull out and nibble on during our dreary, gray winters. Sometimes, it is all that sustains us when the weather report has been "cloudy, with ongoing showers, followed by more overcast days and a possible low front and more rain....".

Anyhow, I decided to take full advantage of our day and I made the executive decision that Peanut needed to practice riding her new pink bicycle.

Yikes.

The last two times we'd taken her out on her bicycle went like this: get to the end of the driveway, park the bike on the sidewalk, plop the Peanut on her seat and....she becomes belligerent, whiny, and cries and has a fit until we finally let her quit (after having put on a great show for the neighbors of cajoling, wheedling, pleading with her to "Just try it sweetie, it is so much fun. You'll love it!" to have her blood-curdling reply of "NOOO!!!!! I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!!!!!!" Very fun, you know, working toward that 'worst-parent-in-the-world award.).

Well, I had decided that we would muster all of our 'little-engine-that-could' energy and 'whip' the riding the bike thing. Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Actually, much to my delight that is exactly what we did. Peanut climbed on her bicycle (by herself) and pedaled slowly down the sidewalk with me sauntering behind. As we got to the street corner I asked her "Do you want to go to the park?"

"Sure. I go fast!" she cheerfully informed me.

So off to the park (about 2 blocks from our house, on our same street) we go. Once we get there, as usual there's multiple little league games going on, surrounded by parents cheering on their little sluggers, and younger ( sometimes older) siblings playing on the grass, entertaining themselves.

And "BIG" kids riding bikes.

Peanut wants to be a "BIG" kid. And ride a bike like a "BIG" kid. This is good for us, because it spurs her on to emulate her peers.

As we get to the track the surrounds the fields, Peanut's confidence begins to build. It is the most magical thing to observe-- confidence building, that is. She begins to pedal a little faster, and gain a little more distance. She's now pedaling 5-10 feet ahead of me. This is fantastic. Especially, because the last time, once we got past the screaming-Mimi fit, she pedaled so slow that even at my slowest gait, she trailed me by about 15 feet. Let's put it this way: If I had sat down every 20 steps I could have enjoyed a tea by the time she caught up with me.

I'm beginning to have to walk a bit faster. Perhaps, you could even describe it as walking briskly. (A bonus: I get a little much needed exercise.)

Peanut is gaining even more speed and confidence as she goes along. I periodically call out to her "Don't crash into people! Say 'Excuse me'. Go around them..." all the while mentally panicking: What if she falls down? She'll never get back on her bike. She'll lose her confidence. Oh jeez, don't hit that little kid...Oh, please, dear Lord, don't let her fall down.

She's cruising along at a good beginner speed--at about 50 feet ahead of me! If I decided to hoof it at a jog, I doubt I could have kept pace with her. I am completely in awe at this point. Less than 24 hours earlier she pitched such a fit I thought for sure Child Protective Services would be called, and now, here she was, doing it. Actually doing it, and enjoying herself.

Then it happens: she falls down.

While trying to go around a couple with a baby in a stroller, she loses her balance, over compensates and crashes. (insert bomb exploding noise: here) I do run to her at this point--boobs swinging embarrassingly, like to give myself a black-eye--and scoop her into my arms. My poor baby is sobbing and has received a trophy of some 'road-rash' on her knee. Luckily, the fall didn't really even break the skin, just 'skinned' her knee a bit. I cuddle my girl on my shoulder and assure her she's o.k. Talking to her about how proud of her I am that she tried to go around the people and not crash into them. Talking to her about how she's a big girl. That she is four. And that because she is four, she's a big girl and will be all right.

That does the trick. She calms down, climbs back onto her bicycle and tentatively pedals forward. "Mommy, hold me." She commands.

"No, sweetie. I can't. I'm right her for you. You're safe." I reply. Again, it works. I don't want her to quit now, and forever associate falling down with her bicycle--if she does, she'll never get back on it. That is just the way the Peanut works. And, if I hold her as she rides, she'll never feel safe if I let go. What do I do? I swallow the lump of pain, grief, fear, and anxiety in my throat and say to her what I did. And, it worked. She pedaled slowly (very, very, slowly) and her confidence sprouted up again and began to grow. Then, she saw another little girl, about 7 years-old going 'fast' and off Peanut went. Lickety-split, she's going again. Pedaling quickly, sitting up straight and proud. And riding her pink bicycle.

Watching my beautiful little peanut ride her little pink two-wheeler was one of the most beautiful sights I've seen. I thought to myself: here is my beautiful little girl, 4 years old, riding a bicycle. And, this is the same beautiful little girl who I used to have to drive 45 minutes to a bigger metropolitan area to do physical therapy. The same little girl who did not roll over, sit up, push up, crawl, walk...without direct and intense pediatric physical therapy.

The same beautiful little girl.

It took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. My beautiful little girl had just passed another huge childhood milestone: riding a bicycle.

We, who are naturally disposed to do things, often take for granted those things we do without effort. There are so many different neurological 'hurdles' that take place to do the most basic physical things. Most of us do them without trying; Peanut does them with great effort. I marvel when I think of the gross motor skills needed to pedal a bicycle, the synaptic relays that happen in a fraction of a second in order for all the muscles, bones, and nerves to 'fire' correctly and produce the desired result. It is truly amazing. The Great Engineer knew what he was doing.

Somewhere, someone said that the human body is the greatest engineering feat ever completed. After watching my Peanut ride her little pink two-wheeled bicycle I'm inclined to think whomever said it was right.

I am so proud of my little girl. Verbose as I am, words fail to capture the emotion I feel toward Peanut and her accomplishment. She's the most amazing little being and never ceases to surprise me with all that she CAN do.