My family has a thing for speed. From my fighter pilot-flying grandfather and rally car-racing uncle to my pedal-to-the-metal dad and speed walking mom, we all move just as fast as we can, almost all the time.
So it’s no surprise that Tori likes to go fast, too.
She started running about two days after she started walking…and never looked back.
But let’s face it. Her little legs can only go so fast. To get a taste of real speed, she needed wheels. Or, you know, a Big Wheel.
My husband fished a perfectly good, practically unused Big Wheel out of the garbage a few weeks ago (apparently, it’s former owners had never heard of a little thing called a Garage Sale) and after a bit of cleaning and tuning, presented it to her.
At first, she was more than a little unsure. It wasn’t pink, sparkly, or like anything she had seen before.
But when she took her seat and started pedaling, a light bulb went off. And then? Then she took off.
Now walks have become Big Wheel rides for her…and huffle puffing jogs for me.
Before we start, we always go over the rules.
“Now, Tori. What do we do when riding a big wheel?”
“Stop at every corner.”
“Turn around every once in a while to make sure I can still see you.”
“Don’t go too fast.”
“Right. Now let’s go.”
And off she rides.
At first she sticks close.
But before long, speed calls.
And not long after that, she forgets she even has a mom.
If it wasn’t for the flowers that line our path, errr, sidewalk, we might never see her again!
But she always stops to smell the flowers. And at corners. And at particularly loud yells from a gasping me.
And when she’s raced across the last straightaway and stopped in our driveway? Her smile could power the entire town of Bloomington.
“I beat you again, Mommy! I’m fast!”
“You sure are, baby.”
“Next time I’m going to go even faster!”
I have no doubt that she will.