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Pedal for the Petals

Ah, perspective. For a year and a half, we’ve been coaxing Simon to use the pedals on his tricycle. For the same time, he’s been resisting our efforts, quite happy to Flintstone it around the block, and quite insistent that we push him up any hills.

If we tried to show him how to use the pedals, he squawked.

“Simon, why don’t you try to pedal?”

“No, I don’t want to.”

And then:

“Mommy, I need help. Can you push me up the heavy hill?” [Heavy is his word for steep. As it makes semantic sense to us and even seems kind of clever, we haven’t corrected him.]

Tuesday night, we went on a ride to admire the azaleas. Their pink blooms are putting on a show, and Simon is entranced. On the way down from some hill or other on Murray Avenue, something clicked. The feet that had been on the pedals only when I was pushing him magically stayed on the pedals after I quit pushing him. He was off under his own steam!

Then he hit a hill. It wasn’t much of one, but Simon’s tricycle is too small for him now, so he couldn’t get sufficient leverage to power his own way up.

“Hey Simon,” I say in a bright voice, “This hill is kind of steep. I’ll help you.”

What I did not know was that a minute earlier, the rules had changed.

“NOOOOOOO!” he screamed at me, his voice displaying a powerful admixture of wrath and indignation. “I do it myself!”

Looks like we need to bike shop.

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