Toddler Harbat is confused. When I suggest we take her tricycle out, she probably envisions sitting in a recliner while the scenery blurs past, preferably with a chocolate milk in one hand and a pony with long Technicolor hair riding shotgun. The reality is that biking is like walking—it’s an active endeavor that uses muscles. This weekend we took her and her friend out for a bike ride at a local lake. Nice flat paved trail, the two girls with their bikes, beautiful sunny weather in the 60s, sounds ideal, right? Let’s ask TH what she thinks.
The saddest cyclist in the world has no response. This picture was taken on the return leg of the journey during the long descent into tears and full-body floppiness. It’s a good thing I tie a rope to her trike since it allows me to pull it both ways, whether laden with a child or not.
Ha ha, aren’t children funny and lazy? I can’t really tell this story without my ears burning with shame and recognition, because two days earlier, I did the exact same thing. I planned out a huge bike ride for myself including an epic mountain climb and terrifying plummet down the other side. Then I ran out of energy and ended up calling my wife to come pick me up. Though I made it almost all the way back to my car, I walked and complained much of the way. If I’d had the energy or any fluids left in my body, I‘d have cried just as much as Toddler Harbat. Waaah! I’m tired!