A pink bicycle

Till a few months ago, Tukru and I would walk holding hands everywhere we went. The shopping bag, purse, would be in my right hand, and the left hand would hold his. It was the sweetest feeling ever.

And then he got his bicycle. To and fro, he would ride his bike, mindful of never going too far from his mum. He was, on my insistence, to always remain within 'looking distance', and 'shouting distance.'

It gave me the much needed space from his constant questions, and yet my hand felt empty.
It gave him the chance to ride his bike on the roads, in a safety net of a screaming mother.

'Stay on the left! Don't overtake from the left. Not through the puddle! Get down, we have to cross the road.'

Till finally, he got a brilliant idea.

'Ai, why don't we buy a cycle for you? Then we can both go straight and fast'.

I wonder how long the child will be this subtle. I wonder how long till he says, 'Let me go alone, you slow me down.'

And I let the kid drag me to a cycle shop, asking for a second-hand ladies bicycle.

'Wow. This is a pink cycle. Pink is girls favorite color! Ai, buy it!'

And we squeal all the way home, racing, avoiding the puddles. My left knee hurts a little, but I am exhilarated.

Now there are three cycles in front of my house. When the hubby comes back home, next Sunday we are planning a family cycle race. I better practice.