Boys and Wheels

The Monkey Man has found a new love.

Mama, Papa, Ivy and Gabriel were walking down the street this weekend, when we passed a tricycle that somebody had put out on the street with a sign saying "take me."

Let's just say that G was quite enthused. So we walked to brunch, Papa pushing the stroller and Mama carrying Ivy in her carrier and pushing the new trike (thank goodness it had a push bar for grownups-- an invention that is genius). G couldn't take his eyes off of it. And when we got to brunch, we sat in the empty back room of the restaurant where he could explore the thing before we got our food.

He rode the trike home, so proud and excited, yelling all the way at the top of his voice.

All was well and good until we got home and he had to get off the tricycle and go upstairs. Or no, that's not precisely right. He was fine going up the stairs and all, but when we go into the apartment and he could SEE the tricycle, he started having fits. Crying. Screaming. Pulling the thing this way and that, knocking it over. Not even trying to ride it, not wanting to push it anywhere. Over stimulated, we thought. Too excited. We clamed him down with a sippy cup of milk and reading a book and brushing his teeth and washing his hands, since he loves to play in the water. Bed time came and that was that.

But this morning, the fits started again. First when Papa took the trike downstairs so they could go on an adventure, and then again when they came back upstairs. G kept yelling "mine! mine! mine!" even when we assured him he could keep it and no one would take it away from him. He grabbed it and pulled it to him and bonked himself on the head-- or so I assume, because he has the impression of a nut on his forehead.

He wouldn't stop crying. He didn't want to do anything with it. I asked him if he was scared, and he didn't deny it. I told him that he just needed to practice and mommy would help him whenever her needed it. Still tears though. Then I started identifying the parts of the tricycle and the tears went away. He kept pointing at the different parts and I would tell him what they were. Then he could get up and move on to something else.

It's so strange how little guys process life. He obviously loved it, but it scared him.... or maybe he just needed to know more about it. Is this the beginning of a boy obsession? Boys and things with wheels. My brother is going to love it, his only nephew following in his footsteps.