No Sunday is complete without a temper tantrum

I was still reading the Sunday paper when Sassy stuck her head in the front door. “Dad wants to know if you’re going bike riding with us or not?”

It was already over a hundred degrees and climbing. Bike riding. CRAP.

“Well, I suppose he needs another grown up, doesn’t he?” It was decided that our children were going to learn to ride their bikes this weekend if it kills both them and us. My Honey and I found it appalling that neither of the kids could perform this trick. Kids have very different lives than we did at their age. We lived on our bikes from morning to night in the summer. We rode to school.  Hell, we rode all over town. My kids don;t even have friends in the neighborhood. It’s weird.

I took this from the shade of a tree

“Then he says you have to go get your bike.”

I rolled my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I do not wish to spend several hours in a park at a million degrees being yelled at by my children because “riding a bike is hard.”

Things actually went really well – much better than I expected, to be honest. Sassy managed to master it and the boy is super, super close, but there were some spectacular fits thrown first. He would throw his bicycle on the ground, wrap his arms around his chest and storm off across the grass.

Well, one more bastion of my childhood has been preserved for another generation.

A last aside. Our quick free Sunday excursion ended up costing $50 when you factor in the bicycle pump, new tire tubes, and a replacement helmet. Why do these free events always end up costing a zillion dollars?