Connor your concern is overwhelming

As a Dad there are certain responsibilities that you are required to perform. How to properly throw a baseball, how to play Texas hold em’, how to mow the lawn, how to properly pee in the outdoors (always downwind), teach them how to make the perfect pancake are all tasks that as a father I am required to perform and teach (sorry I don’t make the rules). I could go on and on about all of these tasks but one of the most important duties I am to do is fix bicycle tires.

Connor has his new (well it’s new to him) big boy bike that he has been tooling around most of the summer on. He loves the big bike with the big tires that make him go faster. He and Alex will do pretend jousting matches on bikes, and Lord help us when they drop the pretend from that sentence, all day long if we let them. Well just so happens that Connor was introduced to a bike tires worst enemy last week: goat heads. You know those little weeds that feel like Legos when you step on them in bare feet in your house because your boys tracked them in on there shoes and you never know it until you step on one in your bare feet at 1030 at night when you are taking the dog out to potty because you forgot when you still had your shoes so know you just hurry to do it so you can go back to bed. You know those goat heads.

 

Sorry a side note hear. I just googled goat heads to get a picture and there really is a goathead.com website. I hope it’s a humor site because if not it is the best unintentionally funny website I’ve been to in quite a while. Sorry had to share, I thought it was funny.

His back tire, of course it was the back tire, was damaged when he rode in the neighbors weed patch (not in my lawn). Not only did he need a new innertube but the actual tire needed replacing. It’s Dad time. Those of you who know me know that I am not the handiest of Dads. I am all thumbs and most of the time common sense seems to run away when I start these “man projects.” There is the setup for the next paragraph.

Bike tires are not that hard to get off rim. I have the little plastic tool that helps get it off and on, so getting off not that hard. Getting on is another matter. I am sure there is some trick to it but I have yet to figure it out. Because I have not figured out the trick, it takes me some time to get the tire back on. Again, it wouldn’t be so bad but when you have a little boy anxiously waiting for you, the pressure gets ratcheted up a notch. Connor is also the boy that hovers while you watch. He wants to know why you do this, and how did I do that. Its admirable trait to have but when I’ve been wrestling with a damn tire for 20 minutes it’s not so cute.

After 20 minutes and lots of swearing (internally the boys were close. Ok maybe some did slip out) I had the tire back on. Time for the training wheels to go back on. Ok, wrench on one side, ratchet of the other and tighten and slip and bang my stupid thumb between ratchet and bike frame and curse out loud. Connor bends over to examine me after my cursing. In his immediate concern for his old man he tells me, “You’re ok. No blood no foul.” As I’m sitting there with my thumb pulsating with pain and bruising instantly, I didn’t know whether to strangle him or laugh uncontrollably. I laughed.

I love him.