Breakdown on the Bike Path

I love doing fun outdoor activities with my son.  Most days when we go out we have a wonderfully enjoyable time but sometimes, if the stars are aligned just so or he’s just a tad too tired an outing can turn into a massive meltdown.  Today was one such day.  A busy weekend meant an exhausted four year old, so perhaps a bike ride was not a smart idea.  Yesterday morning, we had to wake up early to volunteer with our church at the local food bank. Following the food bank, he had a playdate with friends, and play for kids can be a very tiring activity, especially when it involves a new environment filled with different toys - the mental stimulation often proving more exhausting than the physical exertion.   After the playdate, we should have had an early dinner which would have meant going to bed at a reasonable hour.  However, the evening was warm, the sun inviting and being an over grown child myself, I wanted to play outside.  Throw a brand new bouncy ball into the equation and by the time my son was sitting at the dinner table he could barely keep his eyes open.  He was so tired in fact that he didn’t even last through booktime, falling asleep in the middle of one of his favorite stories. 

Sunday school and church today, meant another early morning.  Knowing that we would be returning to church at dinner time for our Lenten Soup and Study Series, a restful afternoon might have been the wise choice, but wise choices and I often do not cross paths.  Instead of giving serious consideration to the fatigue factor, I thought it might be nice to take my son for a bike ride. The fact that he was rubbing his eyes and yawning in car should have induced us to turn around but it didn’t.  My son actually started strong, wanting to race me and my spouse who were on foot.  He was giddy and excited until he stopped to think about it.  We didn’t get far, probably less than a mile, when he decided it was time to turn around and head back home.  Ugh!  All that driving for ten minutes of fun.  Well, ten minutes out turned into forty-five minutes back.  Getting off his bike, my son stood in front of us, arms outstretched, demanding, “UP!”  At four he is no longer light so carrying him, as well as his bike, a long distance was out of the question.  I offered a compromise.  If he sat on the bike, I would push him.  He broke down, totally and completely.  Dropping to the ground, he sat stubbornly in the middle of the path.  At first he was just obstinate, refusing to move, then the tears and screams followed. 

His tears came in waves, and when he wasn’t screaming, he occupied himself playing with the dirt and rocks on the path, building tiny hills and digging shallow holes.  Finally, with a fist full of rocks he stood up, arms extended, tears coursing down his cheeks, “I just want somewhere to put my rocks,” he pleated, sobs choking his voice.  At that instant, those rocks were the most important thing in the world to him.  The rocks, for whatever reason, could not be left behind.  Luckily, my spouse had thought to bring a small plastic bag which appeased him for the moment.  He put the rocks in the bag, jumped on his bike and pedaled back to the car, where the breakdown promptly continued because I would not allow him to walk in the parking lot without holding my hand.  As disappointed as I was that we didn’t get far, and that he spent more time crying than riding, I can’t say I regret the day.  Despite the tears, it was time spent with my son, and time spent with him is always special, always important and always memorable.  And always, regardless of the intensity of the screams and the length of time sprawled out on the floor, he is always adorable, always precious and when he finally calms down, he always makes me smile.