Foot Races

The weather yesterday was absolutely beautiful. Robby was chomping at the bit to go outside to play, and I was eager to let him run and get rid of some energy. After completing our morning "to do" list which included riding nearly 20 miles on my bike, we packed a picnic and headed outside.

I tried to encourage Robby to play with his bubble machine and sidewalk chalk. My legs were tired and he had been rather high maintenance all morning. I was hoping that he would entertain himself for a few minutes so I could rest. He was more interested in constantly challenging me to a foot race. He is going through a running phase.

Robby began bombarding me with requests to race. I told him that I was tired. He responded that the sun came up and it was a beautiful sunny day. He then pointed to my leg and told me that I can run because I am wearing my running leg. Impressed that he knew the purposes of my various prosthetics and with my attempts to avoid running foiled by his logic, I acquiesced.

We proceeded to run up the driveway, which incidentally is uphill, for the next 30 minutes. We skipped down the hill back to the "starting blocks." He stopped only to challenge me to another race and to compliment my running leg.

Tiring quickly, I finally managed to convince Robby that it would be fun for him to ride his bicycle. I failed to remember that I was going to have to run along behind, pushing the bicycle up the same hilly driveway. He rode his bike, with me trotting along pushing it from behind, all around our neighborhood.

Convinced that he had figured out the bike, he asked me to stop pushing. I happily stopped running and let go. Apparently did not have the knack for riding his bicycle yet. In retrospect, I should not have let go near the thorny blackberry bushes.

Thankfully Robby sustained only a few scratches. After extracting my scraped up little cyclist from the prickly bushes, Robby announced that he is not riding his bicycle anymore. I tried to tell him that riding his bike is fun, and promised to hold onto the back. He was not persuaded.

"No Momom. I have feet on my legs, not wheels. Feet help me run. I don't have wheels for riding on my legs. I am going to run."

Robby ran back to the house. I followed behind, carrying his bike. We had one final race up the driveway where Robby was declared the winner. His prize? An ice cream cone and the cartoon of his choice. I finally got to rest!