Anytime Reba is home, Reba believes it necessary to get up early and cook a big breakfast, even if there are some in the house who'd like to sleep late THEN eat a big breakfast. Beggars can't be choosers, however.
So, a big breakfast, cooked up nice and hot and very early. Downstairs, with the younger three of the children begging mom to come outside and watch them ride their bicycles all day long. As events would have it, though, there was other stuff to get done, most of which involved planning for Oldest to have her 16th birthday party this upcoming weekend.
The 16 year old was then asked by the children if SHE would like to come ride bicycles with them. Despite the fact that she had been hibernating the entire week.
"I don't have a bicycle."
HUH!? Since when!? Although she rode it exactly one time, she had indeed received a brand new bicycle on her 13th birthday. After that one ride, she did not even mention the bike again after that. She'd complained and complained about her old bike, that it was too small, that she was too old for it, that she couldn't ride it, on and on with excuses, so we thought it would be nice to get her one that was more suited for her age. After she found out that it required effort to steer, balance, and ride it, I suppose the charm fell off faster than she did.
"Ashley, you have a bicycle."
"NO, I DON'T. YOU said you were NEVER going to get me another one."
"Ashley, we got you one for your birthday."
"NO, you DIDN'T!"
::sigh:: I got up, went to the cabinet, got the key to the storage shed (that's not a storage shed but a big plastic playhouse), went outside, unlocked it, and pulled out her shiny red rode-once bicycle and helmet, wheeled it in front of the big kitchen window where everyone was sitting eating breakfast, and came inside. "You have a bicycle. You've had a bicycle for three years--we bought if for you for your 13th birthday. You have ridden it once. But you do have one."
It is my firm belief that she would still deny it existed if there was any way she thought she could get away with it. In fact, I'm not completely certain she would admit it even now. Talk about the human capacity for self-delusion.
Or, hey, maybe it's just me.
Anyway, breakfast (and crow) was finished up and the dishes put away. Reba got ready to go shopping (::sigh::) and as I was doing something I turned around and there was Rebecca right behind me.
"Daddy? Would it be okay if today I rode Ashley's bike? It's smaller than Mom's, and she's already told me she doesn't want to ride it."
::sigh::
I know how these things go--Oldest will say she doesn't want something, until someone else does, or alternately will let someone use something and then complain that it was taken from her by force. Always. Without fail.
"Rebecca, you KNOW that won't work--she'd say you took her bicycle away from her. Just don't worry about it and ride your own."
"Ooookaaaay." She was disappointed, but she would still have gone and had fun on her little bike no matter what.
For all you "nature vs. nurture" debaters, have I got a case study for you.
Anyway, Reba got ready to go, but before she left I ran an idea by her--how about getting Rebecca a similar bike to Ashley's. She still has money left over from Christmas, after all, and she really has outgrown her other one, which could then be passed down to Catherine. And Oldest couldn't be jealous, because she has a brand new one still anyway.
Fair enough, we figured.
Off they went, and then the other three and I did a bit of online looking around for bikes, then went on our own excursion--first to Academy, because Reba said they usually had some on sale, and then to Wallyworld, because I am cheap. Found this one, and she still has money left over.
The only problem was getting it back to the house. For some reason, I thought that it would fit in the trunk of the Focus, which we had taken because it needed gas. I folded down one side of the back seat, which was just enough for Catherine to reach through and hold onto the wheel. Fortunately, the ride back to the house is slow speed all the way.
To the house, then, and after a bit of lunch and some owner's manual reading, it was time to try it out. And, believe it or not, they finally wore me down enough to convince me to get MY bicycle off the back porch, spray it full of Liquid Wrench, air up the (quite dry-rotted) tires, replace the (quite dry-rotted) cushiony seat, and actually climb on it and ride around with them. Boy, it's been a long time since I did that--we had such good intentions several years back of trying to ride around the neighborhood some ever afternoon, but long work hours pretty much did in those intentions.
But, not on Friday.
I rode and rode until I was sore all up and down my legs--I think it must have been 2, or even 3 minutes later.
Despite this, I stayed out with them for many MANY more minutes that was actually prudent given my overall lousy physical condition, which made all the yardwork I did on Saturday even more of a chore. But it was fun, nonetheless.
Reba got home, asked if I'd done anything productive like put another load of clothes in the dryer, and I proudly said I absolutely had not, and then went and put some clothes in the dryer.
The rest of the evening was spent doing more such housework, and then it was MOVIE TIME!
We'd wanted to go see a movie at the theater, but frankly, there's nothing worth going to see right now. So, we popped popcorn and watched that great movie classic, Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo.
Boy, special effects sure have come a long way in the past 30 years.
The kids enjoyed it, however, and for me, it was nice to see and try to identify all the old new cars. It seems this particular "Trans-France" Paris to Monte Carlo road race had no class structure of any kind--sort of a high-zoot, Cannonball Rally, run-what-you-brung affair. Lots of Porsches, including the Bad Guy's 917, and some older Fiats, and a Triumph, and a surprising amount of Ferrari Daytonas. And an inexplicable Pantera. I will give them points for properly pronouncing Lancia all the way through the movie. Mostly.
SPOILER ALERT!!
Herbie wins the race, and gets the Lancia. Frankly, however, there was a Stratos in the race who was a lot better looking--I've always thought the Montecarlos had a bit too much front overhang, almost to the point of looking like a Saab Sonnet.
Anyway, bedtime then.