“Mom can we go for a bike ride?”
Damn. Think fast. Think of ANY possible reason we can’t go for a bike ride. Is it raining? I wish it were raining. Why isn’t it raining!
In theory I would love to go for a bike ride. He could pedal along and get some exercise. And I would take Grant in the stroller and follow along behind. We could explore the neighborhood and make some new memories. We would have the best time.
The reality of the bike ride, however, is so much different. It’s like Gilligan’s Island…you think you’re just going for a quick ride around the block, but actually you better bring a snack, cause you’re gonna be gone longer than you thought...
First we have to get the helmet on just right. Did you hear me? Just. Right. Failure to properly situate the pads on the head results in our bike riding mission being sabotaged before we even look at the bike.
After I get the helmet on I have to fight with Grant. Because my 2 year old doesn’t want to just WATCH his brother ride a bike. He also wants to ride one. But as he is currently incapable of this task I have to reason with (bribe) him to get in the stroller instead. Sometimes he goes quietly, but most times he screams for half a block…so peaceful!
Next the boys fight over whether we’re turning right or left out of our driveway. Carter usually wins this fight cause he’ll just take off in the direction he chose and we are forced to follow (he’s an ass).
Well, we’re off.
The first time we got to this point I thought we would be around the block in no time. Then I was introduced to “scratching time”.
What is scratching time, you ask? Oh, let me tell you.
Apparently Carter’s helmet is itchy. So he’ll ride about five feet and then slam on the brakes and yell “Scratching time!” Then he’ll sit in the middle of the sidewalk and stick his fingers up under the helmet for a minute (a full minute) until scratching time is over.
The fun thing about scratching time is you never know when it’s gonna come. It’s not a regularly scheduled thing. It can happen anywhere…like in the middle of a crosswalk, for example. Then you have to look apologetically at the car that was dumb enough to let you cross and try to explain to them about scratching time.
The only thing worse than when he wants to ride his bike is when he wants to ride his scooter. He scoots for 12 seconds and then tells me he’s tired. He just can’t go on.
Then I turn into the crazy lady screaming at her kid to move. I get a lot of “Wow, you’re so MEAN” looks from passing cars when this happens. Hey, pal, unless you know the joys of scratching time I don’t need your judgment right now!
Clearly at this point I have to carry the scooter…and push the stroller.
Today Carter kept running ahead of me so it must have looked like he was by himself to some drivers. At one point he ran to the corner of our street and loudly yelled “SCRATCHING TIME!”
He then proceeded to scratch…his balls.
So there is this three year old, still wearing his helmet, standing on a corner scratching his junk. And no mom in sight. It must have looked like he just escaped from a kiddie mental hospital.
Silly me! I though scratching time only involved the head. Learn something new every day, right?