Big girl bike

 
If mummy’s got new wheels, why not G?

It’d been a while since we’d last taken G out on her bike – an intentionally non-girly Thomas the Tank Engine affair that we bought on eBay and that has done sterling service over the past couple of years.

But I have to confess to being taken by surprise when I realised quite how much G had grown, as I watched her trying to cycle with her knees almost up to her chin.  Even with the seat and handlebars at their highest height, there was no mistaking it was time for a new bike.

So the other weekend G went to choose her early birthday present from – where else – Halfords. Because as they said last Christmas, nothing beats a bike.

I was slightly concerned that I wouldn’t be able to manoeuvre her past the ‘Frozen’ bike sat front and centre in store, but luckily all I needed to do was say “look, that one’s the same colour as Mummy’s bike” and she was sold on a very cool black and hot pink mean machine, complete with rainbow gloves and a matching Tinkerbell cycling hat.  A pink basket for her doll to sit in completed the look and we were off.

I’m actually kinda jealous that my bike is missing the pink bits.

As it turned out, I shouldn’t have worried about the lure of Frozen.  It was more of a challenge prizing G out of the cycle trailer that she’d set herself up in. I briefly contemplated splashing out on one so she could come out with us on family bike rides, but quickly remembered that the chances of actually making frequent use of it – however good my intentions – were slim. And apparently it doesn’t fit on the back of a motorbike anyway.

So it was that a few days later we found ourselves in Whitworth Park in Manchester, standing by watching our little speed demon doing laps of the central roundabout, waving at every person she passed and telling them all about her new bike.

I’m very pleased she enjoys her new bike so much, and I love her confidence to talk to anybody, especially because she used to be quite shy meeting new people.

But I can’t help thinking we might need to have a little chat about stranger danger, if only to spare poor random strangers the ten minute ‘conversation’ about her cycling prowess.