Mine … Biiiiiike

Imagine every time you try to leave the house with kids. It takes way too much time to get them ready, loaded in the car, and on your way.

I remember leaving the house pre kids. It was a simple task that took a maximum of 30 seconds to get shoes on, start the car, and drive away. Now it’s a 15 minute adventure at a minimum.

I also remember many times in my past as I was getting into my car, I would see my bike hanging on the wall and really wish I could go ride instead of whatever I was up to at the moment.

Lately as I try to load Regan into the carseat, thinking that I am almost there, and as soon as he’s locked in I can get going. It starts. “Bike … Bike … Mine Biiike.” This is when my son, who isn’t quite two years old yet, points toward his run bike and starts wiggling, sliding, and fighting to get out of the car, so he can ride his bike.

He’s a strong little guy, and by the time I get him locked in, we’ve lost another few minutes, I’m sweating, a little stressed, and probably bleeding.

At that point I wish he would just do as I ask, climb into the car on his own, and make my life easier. I turn the radio up to drown out the screams and back out of the garage. We made it.

It’s just then that I spot my bike on the wall, and completely understand Regan’s attitude.

The kid makes me proud.

I’m James Durand and I’m Goin’ Ridin’…