Get on your bike

After keeping the kids in the car for over 6 hours out of the 10 we were away from the home yesterday I thought it would be a good idea to get them out and using up some energy today. Since Santa gave them their bikes the kids haven’t had much opportunity to put them through their paces. With the rain and the floods they’ve been restricted to the balcony, which was fine with their smaller bikes, but not quite big enough to learn to ride their new pushies. Miss16 came along to help and we rang up Grandma to meet us there as well. 
I’m not altogether convinced how much help Grandma was as the first thing she did when we arrived was to fit all the kids’ helmets on backwards and then offer Miss1 a pack of chips which would have given her a nice ride in an ambulance. 
Our local Roadcraft center has a great circuit available to teach children road rules. I just get confused and then ignore the signs and do what feels right. So for me it’s just like driving around G-town. We’re really quite lucky to have this fantastic facility in G-town and Roadcraft don’t mind if people take their kids on the weekend, so long as you clean up after yourself and don’t sue them for damages. You’ll see why this is important shortly. 

In no time at all, Miss7 was ripping around the track with her tassels billowing in the jet stream.  Miss3 made short work of it too, although granted her bike has trainers. Which leaves…..

Initially, Master5 didn’t want to ride his bike: He was happy on the scooter. Eventually I simply demanded he ride and I ran along beside/behind him for a couple of circuits while he found his feet. First time I let go of him he did fine until the corner, at which point both Master5 and I discovered I hadn’t taught him to brake yet. In no time at all he went from being petrified to demanding Miss7 race him. In no time at all I went from breathing normally to heaving like a novice marathon runner at the 19th kilometer.

Meanwhile, Miss1 made a handful of herself as she delved into bags and attempted to eat things she doesn’t yet know she’s not allowed to eat. 

After an hour we packed it up and went home, but not before Master5 gave himself a deadleg by slamming his thigh into a wooden bench at Tour de France pace. Ouch. Fortunately only a scrape and a bit of blood to explain to mum. As weekends go, that’s pretty good 🙂 Although the bruise is going to be of mythic proportions and inspire sonnets.
Afterwards we went to Tracey’s work to buy iceblocks for all, which we ate on the balcony when we arrived home which I later realized was a little ironic (or moronic), giving the kids all that healthy exercise and following it up with a sugar high. Sometimes you’d wonder that I’ve been doing this child-raising caper for so long.
offending wooden bench visible to left of photo, near the fence

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