Not content with fast approaching the big boy age of 5, and exhibiting ten shades of readiness for school next year, the Cherub has also decided to outgrow his little lallow bike.
This, on top of the several in-depth discussions of the where do I come from? variety that I've had this last week with the Climber, in which I've had to admit that sex is nice* and explain -with diagrams- what sperm is (much to the hilarity and disbelief of my friends), means that I am looking for bricks to place gently and lovingly atop my offspring to STOP THEM GROWING UP SO FAST.
Meanwhile, the ever-practical Mister Fixit scrubbed up one of our second-hand bikes, a bigger, red one adorned with T-Rexes and the word SPLAT. Still with the trainer wheels because the Cherub's not grown up that fast. Only to hear the Cherub whine why does my bike NEVER have a ding?
So to the bike shop they went to buy a ding for Cherub's bike. Here 'tis.
Only that ding did not go on Cherub's new splat t-rex bike. Oh no. The splat t-rex bike got a hoot.
This meant that Climber was later found hiding in his bunk-bed, crying his 7-year-old heart out because nobody loved him and he didn't get to have a horn on his bike. Another trip to the bike shop is scheduled for next weekend.
It's possible we're just setting them up for some late-adolescent hooning up Lygon Street in a tricked-up car with a massive stereo in the boot and a stupid air-horn. But at age four-and-three-quarters, Cherub's cheerful little beepy-beep is making me smile.
*He asked me if it hurt. What else could I say?
slow stitching reflections
9 hours ago