We coaxed Auntie Art to come over and play after Pen's performance of Hansel and Gretel on Saturday. Not long after we got home, Big and Rophone returned from their boy-date. Big ran up to Auntie Art, yelling, "Auntie Art! Auntie Art! We got a motorcycle!" I then said, "Please tell me it's a toy motorcycle." Big said, "Okay. It's a toy motorcycle."
Oh, it was a toy motorcycle alright. Just a lot bigger of a toy motorcycle than I anticipated. (And forget about waiting for the suggested battery charging before use, or even putting the stickers on-- Bud hopped on quickly to show Big how it was done, and then donned his helmet, don't worry.)
This is one of those things that I swore we'd never, ever own. A ridiculous extravagance. Talk about spoiling the children and making them lazy-- get them something they have to pedal, for pete's sake! And now we own one. Not the first time I've had to eat my words, I assure you.
I guess that when Rophone was told by the toy store worker that the $250 machines were about to be marked down to $50, he jumped at the chance. I think he figured we can let the kids have fun on it for a little while and then sell it for a profit if it gets too annoying.
I'm not sure how long it will last around here-- Big drives a little like his grandpa, enjoying the scenery a bit too much as he drives. The kids have a lot of fun on it, though, even Ginger, who is under the weight limit by a pound (I'll post pictures of her on it, knees up to her chin, I promise!)
Anyway. We now own a motorcycle. It's a dream come true for Big, really. But if he shows up with distasteful tattoos, it will have to go.