Liam has a bike. Since he's only 20 months old and too short to reach pedals on even the tiniest tricycle, his bike is more like a seat with wheels but no pedals.
But luckily for the kid, we live on a street that slopes nicely downward, and he has a mother with apparently reckless tendencies who lets him ride on it. In a weak moment, I let him abandon our safe but short driveway for a trip down the street. And, man, did that kid move. As he hurtled down the street, turning just before hitting cars (I didn't know he could steer!), my fear turned quickly to pride. Like, the kind of pride you could almost die from.
Later that day, we rode the bike again with his 2.5-year-old friend Max. Max is a cool kid, athletic, probably six inches taller than Liam, and a full year older. But Max on his scooter couldn't, or didn't want to, keep up with my little cannonballer, who literally rode circles around him. Down the street, up the street, circles around Max and his family, all with a look of fierce determination.
This isn't Liam's first daredevil exhibition. At the park, we're almost getting in trouble with other parents, who wonder why our "baby" is on top of the big kids' slide. And he's just about done with that. The little cowboy stunt he pulled, climbing atop his rocking horse to stand on it while still wildly rocking. Who knows what thrills he'll seek next. It's going to be a scary few years.
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