Mike says he may have opened Pandora's box with this one. After going for her first ride, it's all we can do to keep Celie from rolling, scooting and/or creepin' toward the bike. She is especially enamored with the little red grips on its handbar, which she examines with great care using (what else?) her ever-active pointer finger.
My guess, it's in the genes. On the one hand, her Daddy is a long-time cycling lover--the kind that devotes a good portion of his July to follow the Tour de France, which happens to be exactly what we were watching on the eve of her birth last summer. This probably explains why, in the midst of my most intense labor pains, I unexpectedly latched onto an image of myself riding a bike uphill in Provence. Over and over for six excruciating hours, I set my mind a-pedaling through endless fields of lavender until finally, my little girl popped out.
