Corrie and I stayed up until the wee-hours of the 24th's night building the "big reveal," the large unwrapped gift that should occupy a youngster as they wait for grandma's arrival with Santa's bounty. Last year it was a train set that seemed to excite his mom more the boy himself. This year the initial reaction was less than exciting, but that changed pretty quickly:
Now he loves his bike.
I took him out to show him how to ride, er, to teach him how to ride, and I realized something: it's quite difficult for uncoordinated young humans to figure out bikes. The pedaling isn't as natural as we think it is, and getting the circular pattern down takes a minute, and then you realize---as dad---that the child may not have the strength to power the craft at exciting speeds yet.
Add to the strange leg action, which apparently needs to be watched by the rider as they figure it out, is the fact that the arms are in control of the steering. If the your eyes are on your legs and the struggles with the pedals, they're certainly not on the road (or sidewalk) in front of you.
This led to some funny moments, with me helping and coaching and praising---and huffing and puffing in a hunched over manner---as we biked around the block in a cutesy Santa Monica neighborhood. We were the official mascots for Christmas Day to the many childless dog-walkers out at the time.
"Awww! Right out of a catalog!" and "I bet that's more fun for you than for him!"
That last one caught my attention, and I looked up. Sweat was beading on my forehead and my back screamed silently beneath my shirt and I said, "Yeah...something like that."
I joke, but it was a pretty great time.
The entire few days with the fam---mom coming in from Arizona, Mike and Zailda coming down from Vancouver---was, like usual, fantastic.
And that's what the season is all about.
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