Pedaling into the Baby Book

His first smile. Her first tooth. A first step. These are all some of those firsts that make it into your child’s baby book…you know, when you’re still a new-enough parent to actually remember where that thing IS?

This week, my 6-year old daughter had a first that showed hard work, bravery and many, many, toothless smiles. And I was so proud.

Georgia learned how to ride a bike.

We have been trying to get her to do it, off and on, for a few months now. Despite the fact that she spent all summer running alongside her older brother and his friends as they pedaled away, she didn’t seem to have that fire in her belly to join them. Andy and I kept trying to sell the idea to her: how she would be so happy and free and FAST once she got the hang of it, but she wouldn’t spend the time to learn. We couldn’t understand.

Of course, as the summer got busier, we had less time to spend on something that she was constantly fighting us on. I tried, but after five minutes Georgia and I would inevitably wind up at each other’s throats and push it off for another day. I ran along beside her, holding the seat, trying it on the grass (in case she were to fall). But she would give up, roll her eyes and just say that she couldn’t do it and didn’t want to try anymore. Ever the little salesperson, she got us to give up too. Who needs that kind of headache?

And then I realized: we are cut from the same cloth. We both hate doing something that we haven’t mastered yet - failing at anything just isn’t in our nature.

Finally, this week I resorted to what any intelligent parent would: I bribed her with an ice cream sundae from Ron’s if she did it. More importantly, I promised myself that no matter how frustrating it would be, I would offer only positive encouragement. THE ENTIRE TIME.

She strapped on her new helmet and we headed to the dead end street across from our house. Back and forth we went, Georgia resisting the urge to quit and Mom sweating bullets (it is really hot when you’re running ladders in jeans). On our second trek of the day, she pedaled forward as I steadied her seat. When I knew she had it, I quietly let go and stopped running, watching her ride her bike away from me.

And yes, I cried… just a little.

“Mom, you’re not holding me, are you?!” she yelled in the distance. When she finally stopped, her toothless smile stretched from ear to ear and I knew just what that expression felt like. It’s the realization that although she hated having to learn, she could DO it now. She had stared defeat in the face and pedaled that two-wheeler right past it. I was so happy for her, as she felt proud and free and successful. It was amazing!

We all learned a few things in the process. Georgia might be stubborn, but she wants to reach her goal. She will put in the work if she knows she’s not in it alone. And perhaps the most important lesson of all?

The promise of a chocolate ice cream sundae is the best motivation there is.