Teaching my son to ride a bicycle
The Christmas bell is ringing for the second time when I suddenly hear the sound of footsteps approaching quickly. The sound ceases for a moment, after which the door to our living room opens with a long, drawn-out creak.
The first thing I see is the face of our three-year-old son. His eyes are still trying to adjust to the dim candlelight, but he is already scanning the festively decorated room.
When his gaze reaches the center of the room, he notices something special: a strangely shaped object is hidden under one of our blankets.
Carefully, he approaches. When heās an arm's length away, he turns back, looking timidly at us, asking, āIs that for me?ā With smiles on our faces, my wife and I nod simultaneously.
Our son turns around again and slowly begins to pull the thick blanket off his gift. Underneath, he finds a bicycle, painted red with white decorations.
Heās still standing there, looking carefully at every little detail, when I move closer to him, catching a glimpse of his gleeful expression. At that moment, the sparkle in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
Of course, our son has been eager to try out his new bicycle.
Thatās why all of us are now standing in the middle of a vacant parking lot, on Christmas morning, surrounded by pockets of snow and ice.
Owing to the temperature (-10 degrees Celsius), our son is now wrapped in layers upon layers of clothing. And even though all these layers keep his core warm, his face is still exposed to the cold and, consequently, is glowing red. I suspect that his hands and feet are hurting too.
Of course, all these layers make it really difficult to move around. He canāt look to the side, canāt raise his arms, canāt bend his legs. He does try from time to time, but to no avail.
Heās willing to give the bicycle one more try now. But I can tell something has changed. His eyes are no longer filled with excitement. His face radiates frustration. His motivation is gone.
Now, what keeps him trying is me. I mean, it I can already imagine the pride heās going to feel once heās learned to ride, so I cheer him on.
But this last attempt failed too. I realize that itās not the balance heās struggling with; he has learned to ride a balance bike before. No, whatās giving him a hard time is pushing the pedals. I had forgotten how complicated that actually is.
Judging by the look on his face, weāre done practicing for today. I only hope that we didnāt kill his motivation. But still, Iām glad we tried this together, because it definitely brought us closer.
Itās the beginning of March. In the past couple of weeks, very little has happened. Poor weather, sickness, and a lack of motivation have kept us from practicing.
Earlier this morning, the weather looked promising. On a whim, I convinced our son to try riding his bicycle on our way to kindergarten.
He tried a couple of times without success before he lost interest. I didnāt want to carry his bicycle all the way, so I suggested an alternative: our son sat on his bicycle and steered, while I held on to his jacket, providing balance and forward momentum.
We made it to kindergarten this way, but it felt like we had made no progress. The pedals, which remained the biggest challenge, didnāt move at all. My son was fine with this, but I was already wondering how I could motivate him to practice again.
Over the course of the day, the sun has come out, the temperatures have risen, and the wind has ceased. It is afternoon and I have just picked up our son from kindergarten.
In front of us are two of my sonās friends. Theyāve also just been picked up by their dad and ā by pure coincidence ā they also brought their bicycles. But unlike my son, theyāve already learned how to ride them.
Right now, they are picking up speed, as they are frantically pushing their pedals. I can tell that they are enjoying themselves, making the most of the long path through the park.
I take a glance at my son, whose behavior has changed profoundly: impatiently, heās trying to pull his bicycle out of my hands. Filled with excitement, heās jumping up and down. He looks at me, pleading. But most importantly, the sparkle in his eyes is back!
Itās been three weeks since my son watched his friends ride away on their bicycles. And from that day on, weāve been practicing ā a lot!
We began just as I mentioned earlier: me holding on to his jacket, providing balance and forward momentum. His job was to steer and to learn how to push the pedals.
The more we practiced, the better he got at pushing the pedals. His knees started to stick out less, his feet slipped off less frequently, and the pedal movement actually began to approximate a circle.
As a result, he got better at propelling himself forward. And the faster he got, the less balance I needed to provide, allowing me to loosen my grip considerably.
I feel like weāre so close āĀ this past hour has convinced me of that: weāve been chasing a group of his friends on their bicycles, up and down the same hill, again and again. And although I had to keep running right next to him, I barely had to hold on to him anymore.
Weāre on our way home now. Rounding the last corner, a thought crosses my mind, āI think heās ready.ā
One last time, we get ready to practice together. But just before we start, I look at my son and say, āThis time, Iām going to let go. Donāt worry, you can do this!ā Looking at his face, I can tell that heās scared. But he trusts me enough to nod anyway.
I place my hand on his back to support him while he gets on his bicycle. With his feet on the pedals, he signals that heās ready. I push him forward, gently but firmly. Using that initial momentum to orient himself, he begins pushing the pedals. The pedals go round once ā and once again āĀ and again. With ease, heās closing the remaining distance to our house. Using his feet to brake, he comes to a stop right in front of our door.
Having stayed behind, Iām now running towards him at full speed. As soon as I arrive, I pull him off his bicycle right into my arms. Overcome by joy, I hug him, kiss him, and jump up and down, cheering. Iām so proud of my boy - and Iām sure he knows it!