Scooter

In celebration of this short amount of time between when Scooter Libby received his sentence (30 Months in Prison and a fine of $250k for "lying to investigators about his role in leaking the identity of an undercover CIA officer") and when Bush will (as is expected) pardon him, I purchased Big a three-wheeled "Kiddie Kick" scooter.

If you clicked on the link, you'll see that it is for ages 3+ which, obviously, Big is not (although he is a lot closer weight-wise than you'd think). However, the scooter has been a somewhat contentious item at our house (embodied now, as it is, by a characteristic 18 month old boy). For months now he has been literally obsessed with not only his sister's scooter, but he is also obsessed with every scooter he sees.

You might ask, is Minneapolis the "Land of Scooters?"

Well, yes, it seems to be. Would be my answer. A couple of nights a week we attend on of Seven's soccer games at a local park. Big enjoys running the sidelines like all of the other forelorn younger siblings who are not yet of age to join a team. Many of these kids bring along scooters and other things to occupy the hour that the games usually consume. One nearly four year old who we see often and looks to be about the same size as our Big, scooters by expertly, one leg pumping and swinging happily up and down the sidewalks. Big, ambitiously looks around for another scooter to borrow (pilfer actually), usually leaving some other kid scooterless and sad on the sidelines.

I say "ambitious" because Big actually thinks he can do it. Scooter on a two-wheeled scooter. In many ways, too, he is well on his way. He puts one foot on to the base, and then the other attempts to push. The problem is, he cannot balance the handle bars and, because they can rotate 360 degrees, and because they are generally taller than him (even at the lowest setting) they become unwieldy. This does not stop him, however, from pushing our hands away from the handle bars emphatically as if to say: GET AWAY! DO YOU THINK I'M AN IDIOT? OF COURSE I CAN HANDLE THIS SILLY MACHINE!!!

We end up spending an inordinate amount of time exploring Seven's scooter around the yard. He tries to ride it, he turns it over and inspects the wheels. Turns it back over and inspects the handle bars. It goes on and on.

In order to mitigate some of his frustration, I 'intended' a three-wheeled scooter (yes, I'm reading The Secret. Cheesy, I know.). Anyway, and this is not an exaggeration, literally that afternoon, I was standing on our corner, waiting for Seven and BioMom to pick me up to head out to her piano recital. A fellow pianist and her mother were walking by and we started chatting. I told her about my predicament with Big and the scooters. She said: "We've got a three-wheeled scooter from when she was little. Do you want it? It is pink and Barbie."

Yes! I exclaimed! He LOVES pink!

Turns out he doesn't. Well, I have no idea if its the pink part he doesn't like or if the fact that it is Barbie-themed is significant. For some reason he literally doesn't see it as the same or even a similar object. It wasn't made of metal and didn't have the same feel to it.

So that's what we'll be doing this afternoon. Celebrating the incarceration of one scooter and the freedom that can be found with another.