A few weeks ago, Martin's bike fell to pieces.  The frame and wheels were still there, but the pedals, chain and the whole area that connects those parts simply collapsed.  Marty theorized that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to buy a bike that was less than $30 from Wal-Mart.  He appointed himself the boss of bike buying, and took Martin down to the bike shop on Main Street.  He returned with a new bike and the happiest boy on earth.


Not to be outdone, the other boy in our house bought himself a bike as well.

This one, of course, is a little louder and requires no exercise. 

When we showed Marty's new bike to the kids, I expected Martin to love it and ask for a ride.  I held Sophie, figuring she might be a little scared by the noise.  Instead, Martin put his hands over his ears and walked about 50 feet away, watching the bike from behind the safety of a railing.  Sophie wiggled out of my hands and ran toward the bike, wanting to sit on it with Marty.  She clapped when he revved it up, tried to steer and figured out how to turn on the blinkers.  Martin sat back and waited, yelling over the noise to say "It's too loud, put it back in the garage."

Now I just can't wait for the day that Marty has to come up with a good reason for his little girl not to get a bike of her own.  There's such justice in this, I can hardly stand myself.