Getting ready to go for a bike ride in the country brought out the quintessential personality characteristics of each individual member of the family.
Bobby wanted to know whether we had packed enough food. “You said there aren’t any shops where we’re going. What if we get hungry and need a little extra something to eat?” he asked. “We should make sure we have plenty of lunch and snacks, just in case.”
Dwight was concerned that she might get dusty and dirty, and I had to reassure her she didn’t have to get off the bike if she didn’t like the countryside.
I was concerned about riding on dirt roads and falling off on the gravel and grazing my knees. But grot boy was delighted at the thought we’d need to do some “technical” riding. “If we’re lucky, there’ll be some muddy puddles after last night’s rain that we can splash and splosh our way through,” he added.
It wasn’t until later that we discovered how a country ride would elucidate Ccino’s personality traits.
Riding down a quiet country lane was delightful. “Isn’t the fresh air exhilarating?” I said to grot boy, just as we came across a dairy farm. “Poo! That pongs!” said Ccino. “Was that you Dwight? Did you do a big fart in my face?”
Dwight was offended. “It’s not me, it’s all those smelly cows and their cow poo.”
Bobby didn’t seem to notice the smells, being too busy playing his favourite game. When we rode past, they would moo. He tried being friendly and mooing back at them but they just ran away. He then started mooing at all the animals he saw, not just the cows –sheep, horses, pigs – to see what they would do.
Later in the afternoon we were riding past a farm when Ccino noticed a sign. “Horse poo for sale.” ‘Stop!” he yelled. “I want to buy some horse poo.” I was surprised, “But Ccino, you thought the cow poo was horrible and smelly, why do you want to buy horse poo?” I wanted to know. “If they’re selling horse poo, it must be valuable,” he reasoned, “so I want to get some. I’ve got the moneys I’ve found.” It was hard to argue with Ccino’s logic, but neither grot boy nor I had any intention of carrying a bag of horse poo home in our panniers.
Bobby was very pleased with himself that night. He kept saying over and over again. “Did you see, when I went moo at the cows, they ran away?” “I can make cows do what I want.” Bobby had discovered that he had agency! “Maybe I can make chocolate appear when I feel like a little something to eat.” Then he looked worried, “but I don’t want to make the chocolate run away.”
© teddybearlife.com, 2013