This was a rather difficult Christmas for a certain Santa’s elf who did not know what to do with herself since NO ONE that she shops for asked for dolls this year.
Yes, that was me in the toy aisle of Wal-Mart sobbing over the latest installment of Barbie’s 3-story Dream Townhouse. With two working chandeliers. And a pink personal elevator.
Not that I’ve ever gotten my daughters such an elaborate Barbie homestead. The most I’ve ever spent for a 3 story doll house spectacle was a cool $20 at a garage sale. That dollhouse provided years of entertainment. Until the 3rd story bedroom came crashing through to the 2nd story living room. And then the homeless Barbie and her entourage began living out of stylish cardboard shoe boxes.
But still. Allow me to mourn the passing of the doll buying era.
Therefore, I turned to my young son, with visions of Legos and Hot Wheels dancing in my head. Alas his list contained little more than a simple request of art supplies. And Peep and the Big Wide World action figures. Of which there are none in the universe.
While Santa and his trusty elf were unable to produce a Peep,we were able to surprise our son with something extraordinary.
A few weeks back, Jensen attended the birthday bash of two of his best buddies. The party celebrated All Things Testosterone by placing air soft guns into the hands of small boys (and girls) bedecked in camouflage. The mother of the boys, my quick thinking and dear friend, Stacey, also thought to bring activities for the gun shy.
And with that, she brought along her sons Razor Rip Riders. This is a 3-wheeled low to the ground bike that spins. It’s like the Big Wheel of my youth, except that there is more metal than plastic, AND ALL THE SPINNING.
Jensen took quite a shine to it. Which surprised me since he has had no interest whatsoever in anything that includes wheels. He outgrew his bike with training wheels without EVER SITTING ON THE THING. He has a bigger bike, but somewhere along the line between being the 3rd kid, and having middle-aged parents WHO ARE TIRED, the parents in question forgot to teach their nearly 7 year old boy how to ride a bike.
So we found a Razor Rip Rider at a decent price, and that became the focal point of Jensen’s Christmas bootie. A more excited boy you’ve never seen.
I have felt rather safe with him being so close to the ground and all. What could go wrong? Well. Last Friday we headed to the park with his cousin who also procured a Razor Rip Rider. At one point we looked across the playground to see our sons hoisting Jensen’s Rip Rider up onto the top of a picnic table. To admire it perhaps? And with that, Jensen scrambled up on top of the picnic table and sat astride his Rip Rider.
I haven’t moved that fast in YEARS. We were thankfully able to avert certain disaster and an impromptu trip to the Emergency Room.
Jensen is now required to wear a helmet, and has signed a binding agreement to keep all 3 wheels on the ground. I’ve decided that teaching him how to ride an actual, you know, bike, may be overrated.
Here is Evil Kneivel in action. (Click on the image to play.)
Makes you kind of want one, doesn’t it? It retails for $130 but Walmart has it for much less! (And yes, in the interest of full disclosure, Walmart is an affiliate of mine. Razor RipRider 360 Caster Tricycle