Oh my. He did it. Let me say, I did not want him to ride a bike for any reason of my own. But I could see him, in this bike town of ours, hating his little green machine. With it's training wheels. It wasn't his fault, but he didn't know that. We just didn't take the time to teach him. And he's just so fantastic on that crazy razor-sharp razor of his. So confident. And now he can fly. Fly across town. Fly to Toomey Field for football. Fly to the gelato shop. He can FLY! We gave the machine to his brother, who's just a little 2 year-old speed demon on that bike with it's training wheels. He goes all over, does turns, brakes, the works. And we bought him a sick (sick as in good) big boy bike. He loved it. He picked a new helmut. He ordered baskets. D had training wheels put on. We took it home. He took it out four times, & four times the neighbors came out & he bolted up the driveway. In four days he hated it, too. So today we took him to our favorite nature path on the South side of town, where he wouldn't be seen. Where we use to walk him as a baby. Totally new to him now. And we took out his bike, sans trainers, & took his little brother on a "ride." Love wanted his ride, & in 15 minutes, he was flying. "Are you watching me? Watch me!" My sweet husband was yelling, code that I should watch our boy. I'll never forget it, that moment when his hands let go, airplane-style, & our baby, our first boy, our sweet six year-old for just one-more-month flew off. Free.