So the Gremlin was recently fortunate enough to become the proud recipient of a new tricycle (courtesy of Grandma). I'm very fortunate in that both his mother and I believe in limiting the amount of material possessions he has - over his last birthday and Christmas, he not only enjoys them, but also enjoys everything he gets. He might not play with everything all the time, but he goes in spurts - trains for a day or two, kitchen for a few days, coloring books in between, Play Dough for a bit. His mother and I are waiting for the day that he gets a new toy, and then almost immediately gets sick of it.
That day almost came last Thursday when he got his trike. After spending half an hour assembling the parts, we lug the trike down three flights of stairs (with no shortage of bruised shins), and the Gremlin - giggling with delight - hops on the trike. We turn to go east down our block, and he begins to pedal - his father faithfully pushing him along. The trike trundles past the hair salon, over the bumps where the sidewalk meets the street, and across the gravel. The upslope to the next sidewalk was a little tougher, but was finally overcome. We made our second turn down the block at which point the Gremlin - wonderful child he is - stands up in his seat, pulls his leg over and says, "All done!"
Maybe he caught both of his parent's looks of exasperation, maybe he was jealous of his father attempting to take his seat, but the Gremlin quickly decided he was not finished, and rather rudely elbowed the grown man attempting to sit in it out of the way, and proceeded down the block. Crisis averted.
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