Puddles, Popsicles, and the "New" Bike

As parents, we have the best intentions. We do things with and for our children to create happy, magical, exciting experiences and memories. However, it always seems like things work out differently than planned. I’d wager to say that’s the case about 95 to 99.9% of the time when you’re dealing with the four-and-under crowd. 

Case in point: The last time we went out to eat at a “fancy” restaurant (and I’m using the term “fancy” very loosely here) my boys ignored the rather overpriced kids meals I carefully ordered for them and declared that the (free) crackers that came with my soup were “delicious!” For the next week they requested crackers for dinner.

The toys I spent weeks researching, price comparing, and standing in line for at Christmas? Discarded after one, maybe two uses for the last minute, five dollar random purchase from Walgreen's on Christmas Eve.

A sighting of the elusive snow leopard at the zoo? That’s right…my kids weren’t watching the animal in awe (like I was). No. They found a puddle a few feet away and were happily splashing in it. It’s a daily reminder that as much as we try to control their reactions, they march to the beat of their own drum, and find joy in, well, what they want to find joy in. 

Last week my co-worker mentioned she was going to sell one of her son's old bikes. I jumped on the opportunity--I’m cheap--how could I pass up a $30 bike? My youngest son, Jack, is definitely the typical younger brother. He has few (if any?) toys of his own that aren’t his older brother’s beat up hand-me-downs. And huge confession here--I didn’t even buy Jack a present for his second birthday. It’s two days after Christmas and there were still piles of toys that hadn’t been completely unwrapped strewn around our house. (Before you completely write me off as a terrible mom, I baked him a chocolate cake from scratch-- alright a box--covered in M&M’s. The kid was in heaven, and I’m sure the sugar rush distracted him from the fact that he didn't have any gifts to open.)  

I was so pleased with my bike purchase, and couldn’t wait to get home to show Jack his “new to him” shiny green bike. The second he leaped into the minivan after I picked him up from daycare he spotted the bike, which I thought I’d carefully hidden in the way back. Eyes widening, he started jabbering away, “Bike? Green Bike? MY Green Bike? Green like my Turtle?” I explained that yes, it was all his, and he could ride it when we got home. But first, we had to pick up Colin. Colin also immediately spotted the bike when he clamored into the minivan, and exclaimed, “Yeeeeeeeessssssss! A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Bike! Just what I always wanted!”

Then I had to break the news. 

It wasn’t his.  It was Jack's.

And as you can imagine...it didn’t go over well.

Our drive home is about ten minutes, but when a four-year-old is crying at the top of his lungs in hysterics, it feels like ten hours. Maybe ten days. As Colin cried, Jack had a smug smile on his face as he kept turning his head to look at the new bike. 

The crying continued after we pulled into the driveway and I got the bike out of the van. Jack’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning and he grabbed his helmet, squeezed it on his head and climbed aboard, grinning ear to ear. He posed for the obligatory picture, and then ordered the bike to “Go!”

It only took him a few seconds to realize that he had absolutely no idea how to actually get his bike to “Go!” Then the tables turned and the waterworks started. As Jack began to wail, Colin perked up, and a slow smile spread across his face. Discouraged, Jack dismounted and Colin immediately took the opportunity to hop on the bike and ride into the sunset...okay, down the driveway.

One characteristic I’ve always admired about Jack is his quiet determination. Unlike me or Colin, he doesn’t fly off the handle. He’s dedicated, strong-willed, and says out loud “Try again” as he tackles a new task, like climbing up the ropes at the playground, or hitting the ball off the tee in the backyard.

Today was the exception. Maybe it was the unseasonable 94 degree heat paired with the hunger pangs that hit around 5:30, but he was just over it. Over the bike. Over Colin. And me? I was upset too. Here I had planned this awesome surprise, and instead I endured almost 90 minutes of tears, sobs, and tantrums.

I sat down in the driveway and felt like crying too, and I probably would have if my neighbors across the street weren't outside peering into our yard trying to figure out what all the commotion was about.

And then I snapped out of my self-pity-party and realized that even though the bike was a disaster, the night didn't have to be. I went inside, and re-appeared a minute later with Popsicles. Yes, before dinner. But at that moment, it's what we all needed.

Over red and purple Popsicles we forgot about the bike, and the tears, and the heat, and even though the evening didn't play out as I had planned, it was one of those nights I'll always remember. 

And as for the bike?  It's been a few days, the temperature has dropped about 30 degrees, and my determined Jack is back. While he still hasn't gotten the hang of peddling, he's made an effort every night, and I'm confident he will figure it out soon. And if he doesn't? I have a freezer stocked full of red and purple Popsicles waiting for us. 


-Laura