The pink motorcycle becomes just a bike.

Though it sounds like a downgrade, it's not at all. Lily asked Santa Claus for a "pink one motorcycle" for Christmas, and Santa correctly interpreted that to be a pink trike.

After the first time we took it out, I wondered how long it would be until Lily rode it herself. Not in the "OMG, my kid must be wayy behind some random, irrelevant, poorly-informed metric of development" way," of course. More of just the "Hmm, she wants to be pushed, and that is against the grain of her my do it! norm."

She was so comfortable pretending to do it herself that I barely noticed the switch. It happened a couple of months ago. She does not want help riding her "bike." She wants to do it herself. I'd have more evidence, but being outside right now is much like being forced into a sauna filled with angry mosquitos, so we don't go there often.

The exception to that was the night I got my new lens and wanted to play with it outside. Here she goes.

Safety first. And she always has to put something in that back basket. Toddlers, I dunno.

 

And down the block we went. Daddy by her side, Mommy with camera and new lens.

 

Correction: Daddy with video phone camera.

 

Proud Daddy, that is. 

 

And proud Lily, too.

 

Am I supposed to be proud, too? While I watch my daughter wheel herself away from me? Fine, I am proud of her. But it's a mixed feeling for me. 

 

Andplusalso, I need to start taking more landscape-oriented pictures. Seriously.