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Bike Riding

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has been no small feat in our house. When other suburban kids were learning to ride their bikes, Isabella was living in San Francisco, where the hills and the city streets make it a tad more difficult to learn. Not that city kids don't ride bikes, they do, we just didn't take the time to go to the park to learn. I know. Bad parenting. Whatever. Anyway, she has been learning off and on for a couple of years and I finally got really tired of sitting in the carpool lane last year and told her she had to ride her bike to school starting this year. She didn't believe me. When school started, she walked the first week, then decided that was really hard. She asked me to pick her up in the car. Nope. So she spent about 4 hours over two days practicing again with her dad. Tuesday morning, the second week of school (and Monday was a holiday), she informed us she was riding her bike to school by herself that day. And she has never stopped. She is up and down driveways, over curbs. She has had two wrecks and comes up, asks for an ice pack and gets right back on the bike the next day. She is fantastic and Little Betty (yes, it came with a name) is the best bike in the world. I love that my daughter is on a black old-school bike with pink flames. She has such spirit and fashion sense. I'm a happy camper and so is she. And Dad too, although he was a it miffed that she didn't need him the first time she rode. Ah dear hubby, our baby is growing up.

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