Matthew, our two-year-old grandson, visited us the other day and brought his trike along. He loves to be outside, so naturally he wanted to go for a ride. It’s amazing how something can be so much fun with a grandchild that you might not think of, otherwise. I’m sure there is no way I could ever get my husband to take me for a tricycle ride just by asking him once.
So off we went.
Matthew pedaled, grandpa walked beside him, and grandma trailed, taking pictures. We old folks naively assumed that half way around a very short block would tucker him out and have us all back in the family room within a few minutes. Not so.
We didn’t reckon on Matty’s stamina, which matches, in volume, his curiosity. There were a few slight mishaps when one or two large cracks in the sidewalk derailed him, but he is fearless, so he got back on and resumed pedaling at the rate of a good grown-up stroll. No one was huffing or puffing – yet.
At several points grandpa asked, "Do you want to turn around?" No, he definitely did not. There were streets to explore and people to watch, and when you’re two years old, you’re like a dry sea sponge that is taking in water. Once, Matty was so busy studying a jogger, he lost track of where he was going and grandpa caught him just as he veered into the gutter. Matty’s job was to pedal – ours was to steer.
On we went, further into uncharted territory, with us asking if he was ready to go back yet, and him having none of it. He’s too young to know the principle of the point of no return, but it was at exactly that spot that he suddenly decided he’d rather walk.
Since neither of us could ride his trike and it was a little difficult to bend over and push it, there was only one thing to do. Grandson walked, grandpa toted the trike, and grandma continued to snap pictures. After all, these days will never come again and we can point to the photos in later years and show him what he put us through. He won’t care, though. He’ll laugh. He already does. That’s part of his charm.
About three quarters of the way, walking was no longer the desired method of transport. Oh, he still wanted to be outside, and he still wanted to look around, but he wanted to do it from higher up - from, say, grandpa’s shoulders. So, unable to refuse his grandson, that’s exactly what happened, leaving yours truly to carry the tricycle and take those once-in-a-lifetime pictures.
There we were, toddler atop grandpa’s shoulders, touching the trees, grandma lugging a tricycle and yelling, "Ouch!" every time it banged against her leg, all in the name of giving our grandson some exercise.
I always feel compelled to explain everything so, when a neighbor noticed our arrangement – two adults carrying a child and his tricycle – I described the obvious. I said, "We’re taking a two-year-old bike ride." She laughed and said she understood because she has one about the same age.
I did get some good shots of grandpa and grandson at the end of the trek, even with having to set the tricycle down in time to point the camera and focus. There’s Matty, hands around grandpa’s head, looking like he’s having a great time, and there’s grandpa looking . . . well . . . like he loves his grandson very much.
What great memories! Wait until Matty is old enough to read all of the wonderful things his grandmother wrote about their adventures. It doesn't get much better than this!
Posted by: Ellen | July 05, 2008 at 03:31 PM