He’s Done It Again

I just looked out the window and saw Beanie blithely pedaling her two-wheeler around the cul de sac. Since she didn’t know HOW to ride a two-wheeler fifteen minutes ago, you can imagine I found this a rather astonishing sight. Scott’s brilliant method has worked its magic again. He wrote a piece about this on his own blog a couple of weeks ago, the day he took Beanie’s pedals OFF her bike (step one of His Brilliant Method), which piece I shall now repost here in order to share his brilliance with as many people as possible. He would perhaps argue that the really brilliant person is whoever invented this particular method of teaching a kid to ride a bike, but I will counter with the assertion that it takes an inspired mind to think of Googling “teach your kid to ride a bike.” Which is what he did, which is how he discovered the Brilliant Method, which is what led to Bean’s amazingly speed achievement today. I therefore present:

So some of you may remember that a while back I said that The Rose had actually forgotten how to ride her bike over the winter, thus disproving the old adage. She hopped on it this spring, went two feet, wobbled, almost fell off and decided she no longer knew how to ride a bike.

She spent all spring and summer sadly watching her big sister do amazing feats on two wheels but wouldn’t give it another go herself, even though her two best friends also spent those seasons riding like madwomen.

And then one day, a few weeks back, out of the blue, she asked if she could ride her bike. I said sure, of course. So I brought it out, helped her on with her helmet and she climbed on. She was shaky for the first few seconds and then it was like she hadn’t stopped for eleven months. Off she went, getting better by the minute—an amazing thing to witness. And for the next week she rode every chance she got, from early in the morning to late in the evening, until she was far better than she’d been last year.

Kids are weird.

The Bean didn’t want to be left out, so I brought out her bike as well. I’d taken the pedals off and lowered the seat so she could learn to ride the way Max and The Rose had. Our neighbors had noticed this, and The Rose’s sudden amazing prowess, and asked what the deal was. Max filled them in in incredible detail.

Intrigued, they took the training wheels and pedals off their seven-year-old’s bike and lowered her seat as well. And within a few days she was riding like a pro.

Our neighbors have since thanked us about a half-dozen times, as have a few other friends we’ve passed this Learning to Ride a Bike tip on to. In the interest of furthering joy for mankind, and in case any of youse has a kid who wants to learn how to ride a bike, I therefore present what I firmly believe is The Easiest Way to Learn How to Ride a Bike.

First of all, as mentioned, you take off not just the training wheels—vile things which only serve to ingrain bad habits which later have to be unlearned—but also the pedals themselves, and lower the seat way down; the seat should be low enough that when sitting her feet are flat on the ground, with her knees bent, as though sitting in a chair.

Okay. Now she just rides around. And that’s how she learns how to ride the bike in a matter of days, all by herself.

See, normally, when you’re learning how to ride a bike, you’re trying to learn how to steer, pedal, brake and balance all at the same time. They’re all vital, obviously, but the hardest and most important of these, of course, is learning to balance. By taking away the pedaling and braking part, you’re able to focus on just the balancing and steering. And, really, the steering’s pretty basic, especially if you don’t have to worry about the pedaling and braking part.

It’s best to do this on a basically flat area with maybe just the tiniest hint of a slope—but just a tiny one. The kid will initially sort of duckwalk the bike around, taking little babysteps. Soon—generally sooner than you can believe—she’ll realize that’s a little bit boring and that by taking bigger and longer strides, she can glide a little bit further each time. From there it’s just a little while longer before she’s got both feet off the ground at the same time, balancing perfectly.

Theoretically you could do this by just lowering the seat and not removing the pedals, but the kid’ll keep banging her legs into the pedals as she walks, so it’s way more comfortable to take ‘em off. And you want to make this as easy for the kid as possible, because that way she does all the work. Which isn’t only good for you—not that I ever discount an excuse for laziness—but because it works better.

And there you go. After maybe a few days or a few weeks, depending upon the kid (our neighbor’s kid asked for them back after about two hours; they put her off for a few days but finally gave in and, yeah, she was ready for ‘em), the kid’ll be begging to take it to the next stage, at which point you put the pedals back on. It’ll take a few minutes for her to get used to the pedaling and braking thing but not too long. Not too long at all. You’ll be amazed. After a week of practice—or, as always, maybe less—you’ll want to raise her seat back up to where it should normally be.

I spent hours and hours trying to teach Max how to ride a bike the standard way and after about a dozen hours she was convinced she was one of those rare humans who was simply fated to never ride a bicycle. Then we tried this technique. I’d guess I had to invest a total of an hour, including time spent removing and replacing the pedals, before she was completely proficient. Same thing went for The Rose (both times combined).

And the joy it’s brought…I mean, just riding a bike’s pretty groovy thang in and of itself. But mastering this vital childhood step all by yourself? The Rose glowed for weeks. She felt like she’d kicked Godzilla’s ass. And that, my friends, is beyond cool.

Breakfast of Champions

I have just polished off—with considerable help from children doing their finest ravenous-baby-bird impersonations—the remnants of the cherry cobbler I baked for teatime last week. We will pause here while people who know me well digest this news. Yes. I BAKED. From scratch. Well, the cherries were canned but I did actually have to crack an egg. And measure things. And—are you ready for this?—”cut in butter.” Oh sure, most of you out there probably cut butter into a flour mixture as easily as breathing, but SOME of us find these things a lot more complicated than, say, writing novels or using HTML code. To be fair, I must disclose that Jane did most of the actual cutting-in. But I put the cobbler in the oven and took it out when it was done. Not burned. Not still gooey in places. Really truly perfectly done. Also, I whipped cream. (Gasps arise from my friends.)

Anyway, I have decided that cherry cobbler is the world’s most perfect food. (Well, right after dark-chocolate-and-marzipan bars. And my mom’s fried okra.) The cherries, not too tart, not too sweet, bursting with antioxidants, so the can assures me. The biscuity cobbler topping, only slightly sweet, with a lovely cake-like texture. And then of course the whipped cream, which, now that I think about it, really might be God’s most awesome invention. And so foolproof that even I can’t mess it up.

I have informed my children that we’re going to be eating lots and lots of cobbler from now on. They appear to be amenable to this plan. I will now share the recipe so you know what to serve for dessert next time you have me over.

Fruit Cobbler for the Incompetent Cook

Ingredients:

1 can cherry pie filling (or blueberry, apple, whatever)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (optional–I didn’t use it)
3 tablespoons margarine or butter
1 beaten egg
3 tablespoons milk

Preheat oven to 400. Dump pie filling in an ungreased 8×8 baking dish and stick in oven to warm up while you mix the topping. (Cookbook will prattle on about how to make fruit filling from scratch, but you know your limits.)

In bowl, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and if desired, cinnamon. Cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Do not panic if you have no idea what that means. Google can offer a ready explanation. Or ask your oldest child, who seems to have an innate knack for these things. Better yet, let her do it. You can still claim credit with your friends because after all, YOU made her.

In another bowl, combine egg and milk. Add to flour mixture, stirring just to moisten.

Take baking dish out of oven. Drop topping into 6 mounds atop filling. Do not forget that the baking dish is HOT. When you do forget, drop spoon into filling and rush to sink to put burned hand under cold water. Allow oldest child to gingerly fish spoon out of filling and resume dropping mounds of topping into dish (which child will not forget is hot, because 1) you are yowling at sink and 2) she has more than half a brain). Assure younger children that your burn is not serious. Resolve to yowl under your breath next time, so as not to alarm small children.

Turn off cold water, dry burned hand, stifling scream when towel touches burned part, and resume impersonation of capable, domestically skilled mother. Start to pick up baking dish and thank children for alerting you with frantic shrieks that you are about to touch hot dish once again. Pick up potholders, which are lying on counter right next to hot baking dish and which were custom-made for you on a potholder loom in colors so bright it is surprising that you failed to notice them when you reached for the scalding-hot dish in the first place. USING POTHOLDERS, place dish in oven. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until toothpick inserted in topping comes out clean. Possibly entrust this task to your oldest child, as you are sure to burn yourself again if you attempt it.

Serve warm with freshly made whipped cream, which (thank heavens) even you cannot mess up.

To celebrate, eat three servings. But save enough for tomorrow’s breakfast.