Three Boys = Two Miles of Fun

Last week, Beck, Kelly, Rhys and I had a blissful “boys night.”  While Catherine was hosting another worthy charity function, KRB and I struck out on adventures in the neighborhood.  My plan was to have K and R roll down the hill on their push bikes with B tagging behind on his scooter, I'd hoof it (it's only a five minute walk, at most), and we'd all chow some quality 'zza at the Bonnie Brae Tavern.  As I outfitted Rhys with his helmet, using standard 3 year-old grammatical conventions, he inquired, "You riding you bike daddy?"

Hmmm, I hadn't thought of that, Big Boy. 

I usually patrol our neighborhood bike rides on foot, so I can easily position myself for traffic control on street crossings, give Beckett an encouraging word, a push up a hill, or clean off a dirty wheel (Beckett has become irritatingly particular about the cleanliness of his machine and will often stop, yelling while pointing at some minuscule speck, "Dirty, dirty, dirty, daddy!").  On foot, I'm also better able to peel bleeding, howling monkeys off the sidewalk after a minor tumble.  And it is true of late, I have a hard time keeping up with Kelly and Rhys, even at a jog.  I gave Rhys a shinning red Specialized Hot Walk push bike for his birthday and finally convinced him not to brawl with Beckett for control of the scooter.  After only about three weeks of practice on the pushbike, Rhys can handle himself well enough to keep up with Kelly, if Kelly's not in a racing mood.

So, yes! Rhys, I will ride my bike (with the two-boy trailer attached, in case someone melts) with you and your brothers, two, tonight. 

As I mounted up the boys, ready to roll, played a game of bike tag, chasing each other in tight circles in the ally – a sight that would make their grand mothers gasp. After Beckett "helped" me pump up my tires, I ordered full speed ahead and in an instant Kelly, leading the charge, and Rhys, snapping at his heels, where almost instantly around the first corner and out of my line of sight. We practice stopping at alleys and street crossings almost every evening and Kelly and Rhys, my well drilled cadets, did a perfect job stopping and waiting for me to catch up with Beckett at every intersection.  

We rolled down the hill to the Bonnie Brae shopping area in record time and were having so much fun we sped right past the Bonnie Brae Tavern, our planned pizza stop.  After crossing University Blvd. at a safe crosswalk with a light, miraculously, Kelly and Rhys pushed right past Bonnie Brae Ice cream, bustling, as always, with a summer afternoon crowd forking over $3 a scoop for their house made creamy goodness, without whining or even asking with please and sugar on top, if we could stop for so much as a taster spoon.  When we reached the strip of old shops on South Gaylord Street, a few blocks later, Kelly and Rhys made a mad dash down the street dodging window shoppers and zigzagging around clods of restaurant goers.  In a snap they put a half-block gap on Beckett and I, at a stroll. 

Watching Beckett parade down the South Gaylord like a triumphant quarterback in a post-Superbowl celebration, smiling and squeaking, “HI!” at almost everyone reminded me of his mama - best friend to all.  Delighted by the friendly little toddler easing, expertly, on down the road – smooth as oil - on his scooter, I grinded and nodded hello to the strangers Beckett set alight with chuckles and smiles.  

B and I caught up to K and R at the corner at the far end of the block where they dutifully waited, then we all ducked into a little diner called The Local.  The Local offers the most extensive kids menu I have ever seen and breakfast fare is served all day - breakfast for dinner boys!  This was a huge ride for my little trio of tiny urban adventures.  I was interested to know how far we traveled to The Local.  After a few clicks and keystrokes, Google maps plotted and measured our circuitous route: 1.0 miles! 2.0 miles round trip!  Both Kelly and Rhys did the entire distance, unaided, on their bikes.  In order to cross Bonnie Brae Blvd. at rush hour, I snatched up Beckett and forced him to ride in the trailer, but my little man pushed his scooter all the way home, the up hill leg of our amusing two miles of fun. 

Sorry the formatting and paragraphing problems.  The page editor blew a gasket when I added the photos and I can't seem to fix it. 

Please stay tuned for "Our Summer Vacation, Part II: Halitosis and sleep deprivation in Purgatory".  I'm working on it.  Read Part I: Upholstered Roadkill by clicking here!  

View Larger Map