After the open house, and some dinner, Hubby installed the tandem around the seat of his mountain bike. The little handle bars needed adjustment, too. Finally, the bike was completely adjusted, and it was time to mount. But Son1 grew leery. "No, first Mommy is gonna ride it, and then I am next," he declared. And they both looked at me with expectancy. Now how was I going to say no? I straddled the tandem and perched myself on the little seat. Hubby sized me up and down. "You know, you fit pretty well on that seat. I bet I could lift the seat all the way and you and I could go riding together." Or not. I wasn't a huge fan of this contraption. We soared up and down the cul-de-sac for what a preschooler took as a victory lap. He cheered just like a member of a pit crew. We stopped in front of our house, and now it was their turn.
Watching the two of them ride several rounds made me grow the slightest affinity for the tandem. Hubby could steer and pedal without Son1. Hubby also steered and coasted while Son1 pedaled. Hubby pointed out the most important value to the tandem. Son1 learned a sense of balance without training wheels. This is just the beginning of something else, though. It's the beginning of father-son stuff, stuff without Mommy. I stood there, smiling, watching my eldest in complete bliss. My heart and my head recognized the moment for what it was, what my husband had dreamed about for years, and what my little boy started to discover. I thought this day would come, and I would react differently. I imagined a sadness on my part. But it just wasn't there tonight.
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