For as long as I can remember I’ve been able to ride a bike. But it seems that learning to ride a bike is not easy! Just ask my almost 4 year old.
I know that I have probably left it a little later than “normal” to teach M to ride a bike and I don’t even have any awesome excuses except that we’ve simply, never got around to it.
Last week we went on our quest into Big W (it’s a department store for all my non-Aussie readers) to get the bestest bike we could find. Then after an hour of me trying not to swear and throw things while putting it together at home, that bestest bike was ready to ride!
Everything was going to plan. Her and I were both jumping out of our skin with excitement.
I packed up the baby, lugged everything and everyone down 2 flights of stairs (exactly 30 steps, if you were wondering) so we could do this riding a bike thing.
She gets on, puts her feet on the pedal, gives a half-assed push and exclaims… “Ok, I’m done. I want to get off now.”
My first thought was to facepalm myself because it seems she is more like me than I realised. It seems neither of us like doing things that we aren’t brilliant at immediately. Ugggggghhhh. Believe it or not, I even predicted and prepared for this kind of event. I prepped her for the fact that riding a bike is something new and that she will need to practice. Obviously, she didn’t absorb that memo.
I tried everything I could think of. I pushed her while she sat on the bike. Pushed her while guiding her feet around in circles on the pedals. Tried to talk her through what to do. I even became so desperate that lollies and money were offered! When my attempts for success failed I did the worst thing I could possibly have done. I got mad. I got mad at her for not trying, I got mad because she gave up. And then to top it all off, I threatened to take the bike back to the store.
Yep, not my greatest mum moment. I successfuly destroyed an event that was meant to be so joyous for both of us. I’m an evil ogre, the kind that eats children’s happiness. There was no saving the situation so I called it a day. I packed up, wiped tears and climbed the Mt Everest of stairs back to our apartment.
Once we both calmed down, I pulled her onto my lap and apologised for getting angry. She replied by telling me that she didn’t want me to be her bike teacher, she wanted daddy to teach her.
Did you hear it? Did you hear my mummy heart shattering into a million pieces?
It took me a second to process what she said. And even though it hurt I realised that it was, in fact, a great suggestion. Of course daddy can be her bike teacher! I am hers and her sister’s everything teacher. Why have I chosen to spread myself so thin? There’s a whole extra parent that is probably waiting to be included (waiting because I have a feeling he is sometimes afraid of the evil ogre as well).
So that afternoon M and I did what we do best together. We sat down and did craft! We crafted daddy an amazing glittery picture that she could present to him at the official Bike Teacher awards ceremony (which was held in our lounge room).
M and her newly appointed Bike Teacher