I'd heard (at length) before my arrival about my goddaughter's new bike. "It's purple, Livvy" (said with great excitement) and so a plan was struck for a bike trip during my next visit. Fortunately her mother had not simply bought the nearest purple bike but had invested in an islabike, which are designed to have gears and levers than small hands can use and, crucially, don't weigh the same as a large truck, unlike lots of kids bikes.
We set off for the playpark, 4 miles away, with mum slightly handicapped by the wriggling weight of 3 year old sister. It transpires that even on a good kid's bike, 4 miles is a long old way for a six year old and there was a certain amount of "I CAN'T" and "MY LEGS HURT" to contend with.
I resisted adopting my mother's stance of bracing reminders to "BUCK UP" and instead we invented mini-races to the next tree / signpost / cow, cheered her along with loud and tuneless renditions of every song we could remember and invested in a bit of good old-fashioned bribery (kids will do almost anything for a mini egg, it seems). I am proud too that I eventually managed to persuade her that going downhill at a good speed is the reward for the uphill and she released the brakes enough to get up to a slightly alarmingly wobbling 12mph.
Once at the playpark I rediscovered the joys of swings, got my bum stuck in unflattering fashion on the slide, and found all this yoga means I can finally do the monkey bars. Go me. (oh yes and the kids had fun too...).