The family sat out on the porch yesterday, and we left the garage door open. The Squirt disappeared, and a few minutes later the Midget came and told me his brother was on my motorcycle. I went to check it out, thinking he’d just strayed a little too close or was fiddling with the grips or my helmet. As I reached the end of the porch, I heard a little voice saying “Vroom, vroom!”
I turned the corner and found this:
He knows he’s not supposed to be on there, but I held off on tearing into him because I didn’t want him to try to jump off and have the bike fall on top of him. He also looked very excited to be sitting on it, and I didn’t want to break his little heart. Instead I lifted him off the bike and reminded him that he’s not to go near it when Daddy’s not around, and that he could get hurt.
It’s amazing how different the two boys are. The Midget knows to steer clear, and he does. I tell them they could get hurt, and he takes it to heart. The Squirt, meanwhile, is fearless. If you tell him not to climb a ladder because he could fall off and split his head open, he’ll be on the roof the moment you turn your back.
I half wonder if the temptation to climb the motorcycle overwhelms the fear. In the risk/reward balance system in his head, perhaps dim memories of his last experience on a bike tilts things to the reward side:
The Squird is about 10 months old in that pic. When the Wife’s cousin Jarrod fired up his noisy Harley, the Midget ran for the van but the Squirt squealed with delight. We handed him over to Jarrod and his little face just lit up as he sat on the tank.
Do these memories really carry over? Or is it just some primal urge in the Squirt that says “bikes + noise = bad ass!“?
I’d like to think it’s a little bit of both. Either way, it’s obvious the Squirt’s going to be handful when he outgrows the moniker.