How NOT To Teach Your Child To Ride A Bike

Jazzy, after seeing some of her friends hooning along the beach on their bikes 'Big Girl Style' declared that it was finally time to take the training wheels off.

We should have done it ages ago but I just couldn't face the wailing that ensues every time she stacks it.  She thinks every scraped knee deserves a visit to the ER.

But we all have to learn sometime.

Armed with the video camera, some band aids and the swear jar we headed off to the garage.

Now I think teaching the kids how to ride a bike is totally a Dad Thing, don't you reckon?  

I thought the husband would be a shoo in for the job.  He was a total BMX Bandit a la Nicole Kidman back in the day.

The little girls were putting on their helmets while he took the wheels off their bikes. 

I left them in the garage for a few minutes and went to feed the baby with 'Riding along on my push bike honey' running through my head.

I pictured my wonderful, patient husband guiding them along and whispering sweet words of encouragement.

After a few wobbles they'd be riding off into the sunset...aaah, what precious memories they'd share...

Fantasies were cut quickly short when Jazz stormed into the room, mood as black as death.

"Dad won't hold my bike for me like Ellie and Coby's Dad {neighbours kids} did for them!"

I chucked a dollar into the swear jar and headed back out to the garage where the husband was faffing around with tools.

"You know you actually have to help her until she gets the hang of it, don't you?'

"Well she can ride it with the wheels on can't she?  What's the difference?"

I just looked at him.  Wondered if a grown man could really be that stupid, threw a few more dollars into the swear jar, grabbed the bike and the kid and headed out into the street.

The husband retreated into the air conditioning and had a nap.

Fuck wit.

Bad back be damned, I hunched over like Quasimodo and guided that bike up and down the street determined not to lose my shit.  

I wish I was as thin as my patience.

Every time I let go Jazz freaked out, declared that the world was ending and it was all too damn hard.

I told her to just keep balancing.

"Noooooooo Mum I'm going to use training wheels foreeeeevvvvveeeeerrrrrr!"

What a Drama Queen.  I wonder where she gets it from?

But I persevered. 

I kept rolling that bike up and down the street.

Up.

And back.

Up.

And back.

I kept waiting for that magical moment where she'd forget herself and just pedal off.  Gleefully imagined rubbing that achievement in the husband's face for the next 50 years.

It didn't happen.

It was too hot.

I gave up.

She gave up and went to play dress ups.

I grabbed the swear jar and went and watched Les Mis at the movies which was almost as painful as pushing that damn bike up and down the street.

Oh well, Rome wasn't built in a day.