Cooper learned to ride his bike without training wheels over the Thanksgiving mini-break. He and his parents approached this undertaking with an equal amount of trepidation, but determination as well; it had gotten to the point where Cooper was unable to ride his bike with the training wheels *on*, either, since someone might see him, namely Leo and George, two slightly older boys in our neighborhood who had crossed the Rubicon already.
So David and I dragged Cooper outside. I mean, literally dragged. And then it took about a minute and a half. David jogged along beside him, holding on, and then letting go… and then not holding on… and then looking back at me as if to say, um, do you see this?
After a few minutes, Cooper sniffed, “D-d-daddy… I fink you don’t have to hold on now…” and David had to break it to him that he never had been.
Ten minutes later, Cooper and I were off for a bike ride around the neighborhood.
“Don’t I look like a professional bike rider, Mommy?” Cooper said.
“You sure do,” I said.
We rode for a moment, in silence.
“I feel so happy inside,” Cooper said.
“I know you do,” I answered.
Cooper breathed in and out, exultantly, and said,
“This is just how I’m going to feel when I lose a tooth. I just KNOW it.”