I used to love riding around on the sketchy and slightly rusted bikes that my parents had found for us as children. It was my first sense of freedom in the form of transportation. I could ride my bike for hours. My friends and I created elaborate scenarios in our little heads: our bikes were cars, planes, whales. We had to go to work, save the planet, on a date. We were villains, heroes, orphans (I swear books and Hollywood glorify orphans – thus being one was always on our go to ‘play house’ list).
If I were to guess I’d say I’d ridden a bike twice in the past ten years. I got a flat tire (that never got fixed), and then I learned to drive (quickly became preferred mode of transportation). But I really would like a bike – one with character, vintage, and a basket. I want to ride down the Boulevard in high-waisted shorts pretending that I don’t live in a time where jeans and hoodies are the only acceptable attire. I think it would be lovely to bask in that childlike joy while peddling around town.
However, I refuse to be a crazy biker. The kind that ride on the side of the street risking not only their life, but any driver who risks getting around them. I don’t understand city bikers, it’s so dangerous and they have to breath in exhaust fumes all day. And around here there’s steep hills everywhere, I imagine they must suck something fierce on a bicycle.
I’d rather be the leisure biker that weaves about the local trails with birds singing and trees forming a canopy over my head.
Growing up I loved teeter totters. The simplicity of going up and down while talking or giggling with a friend was (and is) incredibly pleasant. To make things more exciting, on the way down, my friends and I would try to slam our bodies hard against the seat in efforts to throw the other person in the air – last one remaining on the toy is the winner.
Teeter totters required children to socialize, to make friends. After all, it’s really hard to teeter when there’s no one to totter. It takes two to teet and tot.
Nowadays, the teeter totters of my childhood are hard to find. The simple piece of plastic, metal, or wood balancing on a rod rarely seems to exist. They’ve been replaced with spring-loaded contraptions that look like the picture below:
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The large springs allow for a child to play alone on the toy. A sad, pathetic sight if you ask me. No longer forced to overcome their shyness, children without friends or siblings can sit quietly by themselves in the playground teetering and tottering without a care (or friend).
I’m not gonna lie, I wish poor eyesight on my future children. Problem is that I have perfect vision. So maybe I’ll get lucky or maybe I’ll give them clear lenses.
Child: “Mama these don’t change anything.”
Me: “Sure they do, put them on. Oh, you look adorable!”
Child: “No they don’t!”
Me: “You’re just not looking far enough.”
Child: *skeptical child face*
Little kids in big glasses are exceptionally adorable. I’m jealous of my older brother’s kid photos cause he’s wearing huge glasses and I’m not. In fact, there’s a photo of me with half my teeth holding a Pumba doll (you don’t get to see that one). Not nearly as cute.
I’m not known for being the worlds most child loving individual but even I think that big ole glasses on a little face are adorable. Here’s only a handful of examples – of course there’s plenty more cute kids out there, but I don’t want to come across as creepy.
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And now for some not famous kids. I did end up feeling like a creeper, haha.