See you later, slow coaches.

Lately, it feels like I’m forever running after bicycles. I’m sure this has some advantages, like being able to eat more calories in preparation for burning them off again. However on the whole, I probably look a bit silly. Even youngest son is likely laughing at me as I jog up the road with his pushchair, wearing completely inappropriate clothing for such dynamic enterprises.

Things I have observed while chasing them:

1) They are so competitive. My boys aren’t especially ‘sporty’ types. This is clear from the way in which eldest son wobbles impressively whilst riding. Yet, they always want to win. They’ll race each other, school friends they’ve spotted, random cars, even a passing dog on the other side of the road. Their attempts to hide the fact that they are racing can be quite humorous. You have the announcement method – where one will loudly proclaim to the other one “It’s not a race!” before whizzing off down the road while this information is still being processed. Then there’s the creeping forward (ever so subtly), while Mummy gets everything sorted – to ensure a pole position. Finally, you have the ‘tortoise and the hare method’. Eldest son will elect to use this one when he can’t keep up with his younger brother – particularly on hills. He tells me that he needs a rest and sits down for a bit. Middle son then turns round and cycles back down the hill to us. It’s at that point when eldest son instantly recovers and off he goes, while his brother is still trying to turn his bike around.

2) They know a cul-de-sac when they see one and use it to their advantage. As I’ve said before, my boys do love a good rule to follow. The ‘getting off your bike before you cross’ rule is no exception. They obviously feel that dismounting too often is a bit too much effort, so they’ve discovered a way to avoid it. Eldest son likes looking out for road signs with the blue, white and red sign. He knows this means dead end and will disappear down such roads at speed. The first time he did it, I thought he must know of an alleyway or shortcut that I was unaware of. No. He just wanted to avoid having to cross the road. Now both boys regularly ride right to the end of these streets, round the bottom and back up again – just to maintain contact with the pavement. It’s left me wondering if this will remain a habit right up until they take their ‘Bikeability’ course and begin riding on the roads. I recommend this method to families who enjoy walking long distances unnecessarily.

An action packed, rainy day. Standard.

There’s very little a warm bath can’t fix. When he’s got a brother to play with, marshmallow bubble bath, Noah’s Ark, the Octonauts and some new squirter toys, middle son is in his happy place. Five minutes earlier the story was rather different.

Taking every opportunity to use his new bike, middle son had cycled up the hill (without stopping) on the school run. He’d then attended his playball class and run around like a crazy thing, then I’d taken him swimming. He’d practically completed a triathlon and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet! After allowing only a short period of time to enjoy calm and tranquil activities like stories, mazes and spot the difference, he was keen to be on the move again so it was get the bicycle back out again for a pit stop at Auntie’s house before the afternoon school run. As expected, the rain was getting heavier – especially to mark the occasion.

Despite everyone getting absolutely drenched (with the exception of youngest son – who was sensible enough to remain under his raincover for the duration), we all seemed in good spirits. Then middle son suddenly stopped. He’d worked out that he was cold and the amount of energy he’d used throughout the day was beginning to catch up with him. He wasn’t moving – no matter what. It was kind of like playing musical statues with a child when they’ve already won the game, but they still refuse to move in case you are trying to trick them.

After retrieving an item from his Auntie’s place, it should have been a short, simple return journey. Not to be. Middle son still hadn’t moved. I was starting to wonder if he has shares in a superglue company or something. He wanted me to push him home. Not an easy feat when A) You’re over six foot tall and the bicycle in question is significantly nearer the ground B) You’re also pushing a pushchair leaving only one hand free to support the bike C) The bicycle does not have stabilisers so is wobbling all over the place at the slow speed I was attempting to tug it along. Luckily for me, eldest son was in ‘giving citizen’ mode and obligingly surrounded his scooter to his younger brother and cycled the bike home for him. Now the dripping statue – that was my child – was safely on three wheels (with a high handle) and could easily be transported home with a single hand.

By the time we arrived home, we resembled a family who’d decided to go swimming fully clothed – with coats on. After the earlier swim and the more recent precipitation, the day seemed to be following an ‘aqua’ theme, so more water activities seemed the best course of action. Bath time it was – if only Mummy had time to relax in one of those!