Hittin' the Road

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.)

WHAT?? Seriously?


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.