That was the worst.
It wasn't for a lack of trying. I spent pretty much every weekend in the gymnasium at my dad's school. (He was a principal at the time.)
It was the perfect place to practice. If dad was in the office and couldn't help me, I could lean up against the wall to support myself to try to take off by myself. Even better, there was no one in the gym to see me fail. We spent many Saturdays there...just daddy and me. He ran behind me, holding on to my seat, trying to instill some courage in me. I knew he wanted so badly for me to just take off pedaling. Balance never came easily to me.
One day I just got it. I was ecstatic and relieved, but the look on my dad's face was just pure joy. It was a sense of accomplishment for him too.
That's kind of how Scott and I felt on Sunday.
We have been trying for what seems like forever to get Julie to ride her two-wheeler. She's so stubborn when things don't come easily to her, so this whole process has been quite a fiasco. There are times she has just laid down and cried. Or just refused to even try at all. Or thrown her bike to the ground. Or screamed for the entire neighborhood to hear "I hate bikes!!" It has not been fun.
Sunday she got it. She really got it. She pedaled up and down the sidewalk without crashing, mounted the bike herself, started and braked without help. And at the end of it she proclaimed "Biking is so much fun."