After a week of fine weather, the first weekend of spring was forecast to be cold, rainy, and snowy. I love it when they’re wrong.
I would love to be able to sleep in, but if I can’t sleep in, I don’t mind the sound of tiny footsteps. After whipping up a batch of heart-shaped Daddy pancakes, the kiddo and I took off for work. It wasn’t looking good out—cloudy, windy, a little bitter.
Rounds were brief, and we had time for a stop at the bookstore before lunch. PalKid loves to go to our local sushi joint for rice, edemame, and udon soup, and to watch me eat various raw and wriggly things.
After a brief rest, the kiddo noticed something—the sun was out, and so were the neighbor kids. It’s funny how in this part of the world everyone disappears for the winter, popping out like crocuses as soon as the snow melts. We took a couple of turns around the block on the Trail-a-bike with the neighbor girls close behind, and then PalKid was ready—she wanted to take off her training wheels. Luckily, my neighbor has taught three girls how to ride already, and he lent a hand. In a little while, she was taking a few yards of road and making them her own—until falling off and skinning her knee, milking the injury for all it was worth.
I was pretty sure we’d be locked inside all day, looking for a good movie to watch. Seeing my kid take her first—brief and tentative—bike ride beats it hands down.