|I'm mostly pretending to be happy here.|
But it's time. She's too big, the straps on the old seat had dry-rotted and were falling off, and she needs the next step up that will help her to become an independent bike rider one day.
So here we have it: Maybelle on the WeeRide Co-Pilot (perhaps I shouldn't be giving a shout-out to the brand, but whatever--I'm too tired to be scrutinizing).
It's going to work, but it's somewhat terrifying. To both me and Maybelle. Although she's content in this picture, for most of the time we were experimentally riding around, she was screaming. Shrieking. Crying. Wailing. Really not sounding like someone who was having a good time. The friend who was helping suggested that it feels like a carnival ride right now, but that by the end of the week Maybelle will be comfortable.
I'm curious as to how this will go for both of us, and for all the drivers on the streets of Charleston. For this week I'm going to be taking back roads to school as much as I possibly can. And I'm going to steel myself for three miles of intense shrieking there, and three miles back. By the time Maybelle gets to school, she's going to be exhausted (as she is right now, at 4:45, asking repeatedly for her bath that precedes going to bed).