I want to ride my bicycle….

Writing will have to wait today.

I spent yesterday teaching Ellie how to ride a two-wheeler. If only I hadn’t wasted all this time writing, I could rewind two years and teach Hanna how to ride one too. Then she wouldn’t be the only six (almost) seven year old who cringes every time the doorbell rings, fearing it’s someone asking her to go for a ride and she opts to chase them on foot, swearing it’s way more fun than riding a bike.

Ellie took several “I love you breaks” which were absolutely scrumptious. She would call me over to say, “Mommy, I need an I love you break.” The first of which I ran to her, arms open wide ready to say, “I love you El.” But instead it was her saying the I love you’s, blowing kisses and then riding off into the sunset.

Okay, the I love you part is true but was usually followed by a head over handlebars tumble into one of my decorative grasses. While no longer decorative, as most of our garden has been pummelled by tire tracks, helmet indentations, the blood she lost will likely kill off any new growth but her winning attitude kept us both burning in the hot sun far longer than any sunscreen bottle or dermatologist would deem appropriate.

Hanna came home with a homework page and struggled with the word “thusiasdin” which was actually “thousand” and “grass-pez” or “grapes” as they’re known to the rest of us and asked for definitions of both.

I told her Ellie will need to take two doses of thusiasdin for the pain after riding her bike all afternoon and grass-pez are the candy-like seeds that were dispensed after landing face first in the shrubs.

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