Milestones

So with last week's "fall" weather, Jake and I decided we would ride bikes to school. The ride was going along swimmingly (pardon the mixed metaphor) until Jake thought he heard two schoolmates laughing because he was still using training wheels. I rode by the same two kids and did not hear the snickering, but when a six year old gets it in his head that he's being teased, it isn't easy to change his mind. He decided then and there (and by then and there I mean in the middle of the road, in the front of the carpool lane) that he wasn't riding again until he didn't need the training wheels.

I realize I am a comparatively new parent. I don't have decades of wisdom to draw from - that's what grandparents are for - but in my little experience I believe teaching a kid to ride a bike is one of the hardest things a parent has to do. I might say it is harder than potty training or sleep training because, worst case scenario, you can let a kid cry it out and they will all eventually use the toilet (at least that's what everyone tells a parent struggling to potty train). But you simply cannot strap a kid's feet to a bike, give him a shove and expect it to work.

Part of the problem is that most kids of bicycling age understand enough that you can explain HOW to ride a bike. You can maybe even show them. But they aren't old enough to understand the physics of why a bike stays up and hence, why pedalling is extremely important.

Looking back, my approach with Sam was completely wrong. That is probably why it took weeks to teach him. When he showed interest in riding without training wheels we bought him a new bike, a big one. A big, heavy, tall one. Then I put him on that bike, held on to the back for dear life (his and mine) and ran. I ran up and down the alley, through the church parking lot, behind the hair salon, all the while shouting "Pedal, pedal, pedal" and never letting go. Then we lifted the training wheels slightly so he could try balancing but would catch himself before tipping over. I smugly considered the whole experience a metaphor for raising a child. All the precautions you take to ensure they don't get hurt, pushing them to grow up while still holding on slightly, until the day they do become independent. And you are proud and terrified and excited.

So after Jake's declaration I took the training wheels off his little bike. I had him scoot the bike down the alley without using the pedals. Then he tried pushing off with his feet and balancing without pedalling. When the distances he could balance got longer and longer, he moved his feet up to the pedals. I did not hold on or yell. As a matter of fact I stood at one end of the alley with a cocktail and a camera. It took 20 minutes.

That is not to say it hasn't been without tears or turmoil. We decided we would practice around the neighborhood before we tried riding to school. Outside the alley we encountered all kinds of obstacles, sticks in the road, barking dogs, potholes, wind, sun. And apparently all these obstacles were my fault. I am sad to say that that day ended with a thrown helmet and kicked-over bike.

But I am not deterred. I am already planning how to teach Abby to ride. And once again, in this story, I find a lesson about parenthood. Sometimes it really is about dispensing a little advice, then standing back and letting the kid find his own way while you hope, pray, laugh and worry.

And have a cocktail.