Can I paint your bike, kid?
June 10th 2011 18:23
So, Jake destroyed his bike (see "Curse of Jacob", 4-7-11) and there's no money in the broke single mom budget to replace it, so my son is bike-less. As such, he's been riding his big sister's bike a lot lately, without asking her permission first, which sends Kenya into fits of rage.
Yesterday, Kenya parked her bike in the driveway, where Jake was playing with Hot Wheel cars, and went in the house to get something to drink. Before going inside, she specifically forbade her brother to touch her bike.
Needless to say, the door wasn't even shut behind her before Jake went over to the bike and prepared to mount it. At precisely this moment, some random kid (whose identity I have yet to discern) approached Jake and said, "Hey, want me to paint your bike?"
Jake, being 6, thought it was a MARVELOUS idea to give a bike that doesn't belong to him to a perfect stranger. The kid road off on it and Jake resumed playing with his Hot Wheels.
Kenya, hydrated, returned outside to find her bike gone.
KENYA: Jake, where's my bike?
JAKE: The boy is gonna paint it.
KENYA: What boy?
JAKE: The boy.
KENYA: (furiously) WHAT BOY JAKE???
JAKE: I don't know his name.
KENYA: You gave my bike to a stranger?
JAKE: Um...uh...he's gonna paint it.
KENYA: WHAT!!!??? Where is he?
JAKE: He went that way (pointing)
At that point Kenya, the future Olympic track star, took off in hot pursuit and found the kid in a driveway two blocks away. Somehow, miraculously, bizarrely, he was not a thief. God love him, the kid really did intend to paint the bike. In fact, he had started already, but only had enough time to do one break on one handlebar before Kenya interrupted him and demanded her bike back.
Kenya called me at work to tell me the whole story afterward. I was on deadline but had to stop working and interrogate her repeatedly to sort through it all. When at last I understood, Kenya demanded to know what I was going to do about it. She was quite angry because she couldn't ride the bike anymore, what with the wet paint and all.
I asked her why she was calling me at work about it. Had she not told her grandmother (who babysits while I'm at work)? No, Kenya replied, she had not told Granny because Jake begged her not to.
<heavy sigh>
MAMA: Go in Granny's room right now and tell her what happened. I'll talk to Jake when I get home from work.
---
Behold, a pink girl's bike with one silver brake, one orange. Any ideas on how to get this crap off? Or should I just leave it there to remind us...um...not to let aspiring Rembrandts "borrow" bicycles?
6-10-2011
Yesterday, Kenya parked her bike in the driveway, where Jake was playing with Hot Wheel cars, and went in the house to get something to drink. Before going inside, she specifically forbade her brother to touch her bike.
Needless to say, the door wasn't even shut behind her before Jake went over to the bike and prepared to mount it. At precisely this moment, some random kid (whose identity I have yet to discern) approached Jake and said, "Hey, want me to paint your bike?"
Jake, being 6, thought it was a MARVELOUS idea to give a bike that doesn't belong to him to a perfect stranger. The kid road off on it and Jake resumed playing with his Hot Wheels.
Kenya, hydrated, returned outside to find her bike gone.
KENYA: Jake, where's my bike?
JAKE: The boy is gonna paint it.
KENYA: What boy?
JAKE: The boy.
KENYA: (furiously) WHAT BOY JAKE???
JAKE: I don't know his name.
KENYA: You gave my bike to a stranger?
JAKE: Um...uh...he's gonna paint it.
KENYA: WHAT!!!??? Where is he?
JAKE: He went that way (pointing)
At that point Kenya, the future Olympic track star, took off in hot pursuit and found the kid in a driveway two blocks away. Somehow, miraculously, bizarrely, he was not a thief. God love him, the kid really did intend to paint the bike. In fact, he had started already, but only had enough time to do one break on one handlebar before Kenya interrupted him and demanded her bike back.
Kenya called me at work to tell me the whole story afterward. I was on deadline but had to stop working and interrogate her repeatedly to sort through it all. When at last I understood, Kenya demanded to know what I was going to do about it. She was quite angry because she couldn't ride the bike anymore, what with the wet paint and all.
I asked her why she was calling me at work about it. Had she not told her grandmother (who babysits while I'm at work)? No, Kenya replied, she had not told Granny because Jake begged her not to.
<heavy sigh>
MAMA: Go in Granny's room right now and tell her what happened. I'll talk to Jake when I get home from work.
---
Behold, a pink girl's bike with one silver brake, one orange. Any ideas on how to get this crap off? Or should I just leave it there to remind us...um...not to let aspiring Rembrandts "borrow" bicycles?
6-10-2011
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