Sweet, Sweaty Sixteen
Jun. 18th, 2011 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judifilksignMost of today was marked by Sparkle in tantrums.
She still wanted to go over to her friends' house, and Saturday is our usual day for it, but they aren't expected back yet, which wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. "I'll never see my friends again!" she wailed, over and over. "Never!" and cried and sulked.
I started making chocolate chip cookies, and there was a temper tantrum there, because she asked if she could help, and I said "Sure!" but she wanted her brother Irish to help, and he wanted to play Gameboy. She pulled and tugged and screamed at him, and cried and cried, and banged on his door sobbing for him to help make cookies. Irish finally came out to make peace, which I have mixed feelings about, because that rewarded her tantrum. When the cookies were done, I sent Irish over to his friend's house with a dozen of them to share amongst four boys. I am an official wonderful mom, because hot, fresh cookies on a rainy day are to a boy's mind, just perfect.
Throughout the day, my darling husband kept asking Sparkle whether she would go on a bike ride with me, and the answer was always a tantrum-laden no, because she wanted to go to her friends', and she was sad.
I asked her too, and told her that I would go alone, but that I would miss her. My answer was no, too. I said that if she changed her mind, then I would be happy to have her along.
After supper, Sparkle asked, "Are you ready for our bike ride, Mom?" and my husband and I exchanged very pleased looks. There was a small crisis trying to find where she'd put her bike helmet, with a good bit of dialog about Swiper, and never finding it now.
Once found, we got on our bike and pedaled through the neighborhood. On the "other side" of the busy street cutting through our townlet, we passed four children with bikes parked who were watching the world go by perched up on the bike trail's fence that separates it from the street paralleling the rail road tracks. They were amazed by the tandem, and surprised that there was a little girl near their age they didn't know about. (That side of our town votes down my district's levies every year, and sends their kids to school to the town to the north of us, rejecting our schools, so Sparkle has never gone to school with "that side" of the town, and the busy street keeps us out of casual contact.) I wonder whether they are permitted to cross the busy street to check us out.
Once on the trail, we startled a turkey vulture just of the path. It rose with a cry, beating its wings laboriously to get off the ground along the path toward us. We could hear it flapping, and the sound was ominous. Just as it was right in front of us, and Sparkle was saying, "Uh, momma?" it spiraled in a wingtip U-turn, and beat its way up to a tree branch, where it turned its back on us, then glared over its shoulder at us.
"What was THAT?" asked Sparkle. Her voice sounded small, and almost scared - that pleased to be nervous sound kids get sometimes.
"That was a turkey vulture," I replied.
"Oh. Hi, Mr. Turkey!" Sparkle chirped.
I corrected her. "Turkey vulture, darling. Turkey vulture."
"Vulture is scary," Sparkle said. "Turkey is not scary. That's a turkey. Bye, turkey!" I had to laugh at her linguistic coping skill. Minimize the label, and POOF! It isn't scary any more.
Since it had been raining all afternoon, it was steamy and sticky, despite cool temperatures. In addition, the path had many worms along the sides. It had robins everywhere, too, grabbing worms as fast as they could land and take off again. We spotted a number of nests. I bet the parent robins were stuffing insatiable maws. Sparkle said hi to many of them.
We saw three or four chipmunks along the rail road tracks again, but all under the rail, between rail road ties. I'm betting "Mr. Turkey" had them very cautious.
We turned around at the first road. The humidity took a lot out of us. Both of us were drenched in as much sweat as we had been riding the first week in ninety degree temperatures. The mosquitoes were out, too. One landed on my arm, and I was unhappy, because riding with Sparkle means keeping both hands on the handlebars, or risk careening out of control. Then, a dragonfly grabbed it right off of me. I was geeked out with the coolness of that! I then noted that there were a great number of dragonflies pacing us. They seemed like dark helicopters. The overcast sky meant we didn't see their usual iridescent shine. Yay, Mother Nature's pest control service! They would dart past our heads, I hope nabbing more of those skeeters.
Sparkle learned yesterday that leaning right and left can make the bike veer right and left, and she experimented today in throwing her weight around "so I can steer, too." I had to explain several times that she could crash us, and that we were supposed to stay on the right side of the path, because those were the riding rules. Sparkle's huffy sighs were eloquent indicators of what she thought of fun-spoiling rules.
Sparkle started pedaling standing up and hard as we passed the place where we'd seen Mr. Turkey. We also passed a man and his collie. I noted that the man clipped its leash back on when we were a distance away, and kept it close by him as we whizzed by. Sparkle asked if we could stop to pet the puppy, and I told her no, that we would excite the dog too much going past, and he would probably bark at us, so be ready and don't be surprised. The dog went ape as we rode past, as have most dogs. I think we look just different from regular bikes to make them freak a bit. Sparkle commented that the dog DID bark at us, in a surprised tone.
I had a moment's panic when my bike tires skidded to the left on damp pavement as we rounded the downhill curve towards home, but we came through okay.
And Sparkle was a bit more cheerful, (although she's had two temper fits since coming home.) It was nice to have my biking buddy back.
She still wanted to go over to her friends' house, and Saturday is our usual day for it, but they aren't expected back yet, which wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. "I'll never see my friends again!" she wailed, over and over. "Never!" and cried and sulked.
I started making chocolate chip cookies, and there was a temper tantrum there, because she asked if she could help, and I said "Sure!" but she wanted her brother Irish to help, and he wanted to play Gameboy. She pulled and tugged and screamed at him, and cried and cried, and banged on his door sobbing for him to help make cookies. Irish finally came out to make peace, which I have mixed feelings about, because that rewarded her tantrum. When the cookies were done, I sent Irish over to his friend's house with a dozen of them to share amongst four boys. I am an official wonderful mom, because hot, fresh cookies on a rainy day are to a boy's mind, just perfect.
Throughout the day, my darling husband kept asking Sparkle whether she would go on a bike ride with me, and the answer was always a tantrum-laden no, because she wanted to go to her friends', and she was sad.
I asked her too, and told her that I would go alone, but that I would miss her. My answer was no, too. I said that if she changed her mind, then I would be happy to have her along.
After supper, Sparkle asked, "Are you ready for our bike ride, Mom?" and my husband and I exchanged very pleased looks. There was a small crisis trying to find where she'd put her bike helmet, with a good bit of dialog about Swiper, and never finding it now.
Once found, we got on our bike and pedaled through the neighborhood. On the "other side" of the busy street cutting through our townlet, we passed four children with bikes parked who were watching the world go by perched up on the bike trail's fence that separates it from the street paralleling the rail road tracks. They were amazed by the tandem, and surprised that there was a little girl near their age they didn't know about. (That side of our town votes down my district's levies every year, and sends their kids to school to the town to the north of us, rejecting our schools, so Sparkle has never gone to school with "that side" of the town, and the busy street keeps us out of casual contact.) I wonder whether they are permitted to cross the busy street to check us out.
Once on the trail, we startled a turkey vulture just of the path. It rose with a cry, beating its wings laboriously to get off the ground along the path toward us. We could hear it flapping, and the sound was ominous. Just as it was right in front of us, and Sparkle was saying, "Uh, momma?" it spiraled in a wingtip U-turn, and beat its way up to a tree branch, where it turned its back on us, then glared over its shoulder at us.
"What was THAT?" asked Sparkle. Her voice sounded small, and almost scared - that pleased to be nervous sound kids get sometimes.
"That was a turkey vulture," I replied.
"Oh. Hi, Mr. Turkey!" Sparkle chirped.
I corrected her. "Turkey vulture, darling. Turkey vulture."
"Vulture is scary," Sparkle said. "Turkey is not scary. That's a turkey. Bye, turkey!" I had to laugh at her linguistic coping skill. Minimize the label, and POOF! It isn't scary any more.
Since it had been raining all afternoon, it was steamy and sticky, despite cool temperatures. In addition, the path had many worms along the sides. It had robins everywhere, too, grabbing worms as fast as they could land and take off again. We spotted a number of nests. I bet the parent robins were stuffing insatiable maws. Sparkle said hi to many of them.
We saw three or four chipmunks along the rail road tracks again, but all under the rail, between rail road ties. I'm betting "Mr. Turkey" had them very cautious.
We turned around at the first road. The humidity took a lot out of us. Both of us were drenched in as much sweat as we had been riding the first week in ninety degree temperatures. The mosquitoes were out, too. One landed on my arm, and I was unhappy, because riding with Sparkle means keeping both hands on the handlebars, or risk careening out of control. Then, a dragonfly grabbed it right off of me. I was geeked out with the coolness of that! I then noted that there were a great number of dragonflies pacing us. They seemed like dark helicopters. The overcast sky meant we didn't see their usual iridescent shine. Yay, Mother Nature's pest control service! They would dart past our heads, I hope nabbing more of those skeeters.
Sparkle learned yesterday that leaning right and left can make the bike veer right and left, and she experimented today in throwing her weight around "so I can steer, too." I had to explain several times that she could crash us, and that we were supposed to stay on the right side of the path, because those were the riding rules. Sparkle's huffy sighs were eloquent indicators of what she thought of fun-spoiling rules.
Sparkle started pedaling standing up and hard as we passed the place where we'd seen Mr. Turkey. We also passed a man and his collie. I noted that the man clipped its leash back on when we were a distance away, and kept it close by him as we whizzed by. Sparkle asked if we could stop to pet the puppy, and I told her no, that we would excite the dog too much going past, and he would probably bark at us, so be ready and don't be surprised. The dog went ape as we rode past, as have most dogs. I think we look just different from regular bikes to make them freak a bit. Sparkle commented that the dog DID bark at us, in a surprised tone.
I had a moment's panic when my bike tires skidded to the left on damp pavement as we rounded the downhill curve towards home, but we came through okay.
And Sparkle was a bit more cheerful, (although she's had two temper fits since coming home.) It was nice to have my biking buddy back.
