So far this summer, Iris has mastered riding her tricycle. And yes, she’s wearing snowflake pants in June. I know.
Luckily her super-skill has coincided with Julia’s enthusiasm about her new beach cruiser. Yes, I know I shot directly into the sun. I know.
Besides getting some well-needed exercise, this can only mean one thing; walks around and around the neighborhood. A few times a day even, if you can imagine. I’m a big fan of the great outdoors. I just don’t get out as often as I should. Until now. With the bikes, comes the need for adult supervision. I guess that means me.
Indeed, it does. And resistance is futile because I’m not good with whining and if I try to put the over-zealous little Lance Armstongs off, well, there’s lots of it. I must succumb to the call of the wild. And if you’re reading a little reluctance here, you’re reading right. Which is really so ridiculous because it never fails that when we’ve come home after a summer saunter (that’s what I do, I saunter, while the girls put their ‘pedals’ to the metal) I always feel refreshed, revived and ready to run back to my computer and blog about it.
I’m hopeless. I know.