Mum on the Run...: Big boy. Little Boy

You've got to love the contrdiction that is kids.
(Well, that is most humans - but I prefer observing the little ones.)

Angels one minute, demons the next.
Love a particular vegetable one day, hate it the next.
Cuddling, snuggling and loving one second, lashing out in (frontal lobe underdevelopment) anger the next.

Don't they just keep us on our toes and make life interesting?
Some days resting and boring would be quite satisfactory though.

This last week my independent, busy little man has followed me into my morning shower three times.
Not because he's feeling particularly grubby since his bath the night before, but because he wants to be held and cuddled like a baby under the warm water.
I'm quite happy to oblige. It's so rare for him to be still or quiet for longer than a milisecond these days- I'm lapping it up.
Sore arms or not.

The child who can't play hide and seek without chuckling and yelling out "I'm ober here, Mum!!" kept a Mother's day gift in his cupboard for a whole week. He only eluded to his "prize" once - never opening it or pulling it out to soothe troubled waters mid week as I would have.

The boy who loved his trusty Smart trike and rode it to the park every evening one day last week decided "that bike for the babies". He has since rejected it for his pram (not for babies?) on our daily walks and park trips.

So, this is how I came to be a 'specialist bicycle mechanic' this week.
Adding it to the resume as I type.

Look, the bike was on special.
I strongly believe that bike riding is a rite of passage for children and essential to motor development, coordination, road safety, gaining independence...
I'm still amazed when students get to our Yr 4 Bicycle Education course and can barely wobble around on one.
Riding a bike is a huge part of childhood and was a fantastic way for me to escape my home for hours on end.
Not so for you, Magoo. It was much safer to roam the streets in my day.
(Just sprouted another grey hair for that comment.)
No, it is not my son's birthday nor will it count as an early Christmas present.
We liked it, I bought it.
Daddy's away and it made us feel good, OKAY?

So, I lugged the big box home. Well, to and from the car anyway.
Put Magoo down to nap and began the showdown.

Assembling toys is normally Daddy's domain.

(And I must obviously stand by, supervise and take photos!)

But if I couldn't wait for his return to buy the bike, I sure as heck wasn't going to wait for him to put the thing together.

1 bike against 1 determined Mummy.
Many, many pieces against 1 pathetic manual which was promptly discarded.

Also deftly ignored was this label :

That's for Dad's right?
I can do anything. I'm a Mum for crying out loud
- or 4COL as the cool kids say.
(Sprouted another grey hair for thinking that and one more for typing it.)

I'm many things and stubborn mule is right up there, so this 30cm high contraption was not going to get the better of me.

You canna hand a mama
a grander spanner

I even ventrured in the man's space, crossed the threshhold into the shed and emerged with a tool. I got me an adjustable spanner (I hope), and set to work..

(Without needing to grab myself a beer from the shed fridge, contrary to popular Man Myth. Myth #1 exposed, fellas.)

One big jigsaw puzzle, really.

Ta da! All unwrapped!

Looking pro

And there she is!

Well, what a piece of cake.
All those Dads raising a sweat, swear whispering up a storm and 'needing' a recovery beer on Christmas Eve are pulling one over us.
Man Myth #2 exposed, fellas.
I'll take the bicycle assembly over turkey stuffing in the years to come.

And it hasn't collapsed on us yet.
(Possibly thanks to my gorgeous friend's husband who may have done some final tweaking for us prior to 'big boy bike adventure number 1'.)