With apologies for those who can't tolerate self-indulgent photo essays of cute kids they aren't related to, I'm all mush-headed after spending the weekend with the World's Greatest Nephews and other assorted relations. The highlight for Uncle Jason and Aunt Carla was giving newly-four Wilson his first "big boy bike."
Despite Uncle Jason's fears that the kid might turn out to be a (shudder!) runner, he took to his wheels right away, testing them out on the indoor velodrome that is usually reserved for plastic tricycles:
Eat my dust, Nana!
Little brother could hardly stand the excitement, so after insisting that he needed his helmet too (which was more about "big brother's doing it" than safety, methinks), he got in on the action:
Insert your favorite Phil Liggett commentary here.
It was a challenge to get them to stop for cake. Heck, the helmet didn't even come off for the blowing out of the candles:
Totally protected against cake-plants.
Despite threatening skies, we then took the fun outside, where the newly-minted (and now sugar-fueled) cyclist continued to tear up the track:
Test that kid for cake-doping.
Even rain couldn't stop the fun -- once Mom sent out the appropriate gear:
Yes, I'm jealous of the snazzy rain jacket.
And -- again -- little brother crosses the line a close second:
But I'm in the malliot jaune!
Warning, extra cute coming: When we finally had to leave for home, the little dude gave me a sad hug and very quietly asked, "Uncle Jason, can you leave the new bike at my house please?" I guess he thought it was going home with me. Once I convinced him that yes, it was his now, and it was staying at his house, the smile was back -- and he wanted to go out and ride some more.
After watching all this, I'm convinced that the best way to adjust your attitude about riding is to watch a kid do it. You will never see quite so much joy crammed into a tiny face. I'm going to remember that look the next time I hop on my own big boy bike.