W. has completely outgrown his bicycle. When I say outgrown, I mean outgrown! It's bad. His knees practically hit the steering wheel. Mr. Schmitty and I have been casually looking at different ones for the past few months but have put it off because, well, it's been winter.
The weather has changed. It's been gorgeous. It was time to buy the poor kid a bike before he jammed a knee cap.
Mr. Schmitty and I were at Target on Friday. While I was looking at the clearance racks he walked up and said that he found a great bike. He wanted me to take a look.
It was a cool looking one, however, I had one problem. It was a 24 inch bike. I told him it was too tall for W.
He told me, that a guy at a bicycle shop, told him, that an almost 10 year old should be riding a 24 inch.
I asked how he could say that without even seeing W. get on a bike. He's not short, but he's not tall either. I think 24 inches is too high.
Mr. Schmitty disagreed, I guess because he's a MAN and because another MAN said that his SON should be riding a 24 inch bike...well dammit...he SHOULD be riding a 24 inch bike!
His son is almost 10. He has yet to understand his son. He has yet to know what reactions his son can have. He.is.fricking.clueless.
I kept that thought to myself. I gave my objections another shot. "It's twice the size he is used to. It also has hand breaks, which he's not used to. He's going to be scared and freak."
"He'll be fine."
W. was thrilled to see his new bike sitting in the living room when he got home from school. He buckled on his helmet and had Mr. Schmitty bring it outside right away.
He could barely swing his leg over the seat. The bike tipped. Mr. Schmitty had to hold it up.
I stood, arms crossed, shaking my head.
He straddled the bike. He was on tip-toe. I was thinking one false move, and I won't be a grandma some day.
W. jumped up on the seat and tried to peddle. He jumped down, swung his leg back over the seat and threw his helmet across the driveway.
"THE.BIKE.IS.TOO.BIG!!!" He begins to cry and scream.
Mr. Schmitty looks at me with a total look of defeat.
There is only one thing left for me to say, "Need the receipt, dear?"