She's got her own wheels now

On Saturday I finally gave in to my impulses to spread out Liza's birthday presents a little bit so she didn't go into shock from the sheer volume of stuff she was receiving. So I unwrapped the scooter I had gotten for her, and we let her putter around the ground level of the house on it since it was raining outside. Heck, I've already dropped a screwdriver on the hardwood floor and left a huge square-shaped hole, so a few tire scratches won't bother me much, right?

She loves that scooter, telling anyone who will listen, "I have to go ride my scooter now," in the same voice an adult might use to say, "I have to go drive my Maserati now."

As much as she enjoys going around in a circle that's only 20 feet in diameter, Liza has been resisting my urges to try the scooter on the sidewalk out front. I think her main objection has been that she has to wear a helmet when she rides it outside, but inside she doesn't need one. I know, rules like that virtually guarantee that I'll end up taking her to the emergency room with a hardwood-floor-induced concussion, but I can only play Evil Mommy for so long before I start to get hives. Anyway, for some reason she's decided she doesn't like her helmet, so she's been avoiding taking the scooter outside.

Today, however, I managed to convince her to "race" me down to the stop sign on the corner, me on foot and her on her scooter. She cuts a dashing figure on her new wheels, doesn't she?

That's a Radio Flyer "My First Scooter," in case anyone is in the market for a toddler toy. Models with dual front wheels are hard to find (most three-wheeled scooters have the dual wheels in the rear), and I think they make it harder to overturn because they limit the turning radius pretty severely. She's not going to be running a slalom course, she's going to be putzing up and down our ruler-straight sidewalks, so I think it's perfect.

Partway to the corner Liza showed that she has, indeed, been watching the older kids on our street, several of whom have gas-powered Razors.

Sorry, sweetie, that doesn't cut it on your model.

About 3/4 of the way to the corner Liza's pace really slacked off, and the rest of the trip was one extended dandelion picking session. I tried to convince her to turn around and head home, but she's nothing if not literal. Tell her you're going to race to the stop sign, and she's going to the stop sign, by jiminy.
My entertainment while she did her dandelion hunt? Attempting to absorb every bit of crabapple blossom fragrance from the one tree that bloomed a few days ahead of the rest.