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Wet Bike Seats

Four days ago I hustled out to the backyard and drug in somebody’s bike.  The clouds were already emptying, and I kept worrying about that poor bike seat.  Only…

only I probably should have just shrugged instead because…

the four-year old owner of that bike grinned at his new indoor possibilities and took off rounding corners with the help of a training wheel or two.  With his whole head facing behind him, he pedaled toward the bathroom telling me what I needed to hear, “it’s okay, mommy.  I’ll stay away from the walls.” 

And I softened. 


At that time there was no future mention of running over his sister in the hallway or of  black skid marks measuring three feet apiece on the hardwoods.  There wasn’t even mention of a bicycle hovering at the top of the stairs.


If I can just make this announcement: my position on wet bike seats has changed.


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