The tricycle was too small.
His happiness was not.
The bell disappeared inside Bram’s paw.
“Did you ring it?” asked Poppy.
“Possibly. I couldn’t hear it from in there.”
The little rabbit leaned closer. Bram lifted one finger.
Ding.
“There,” he said. “Found it.”
A Question of Knees
Poppy had parked her blue tricycle beside the garden path. A crooked chalk line crossed the paving stones just ahead of its front wheel. She had been touching up one end when Bram stopped to admire the purple grips.
“You can try it,” she said.
Bram looked at the seat. Then at himself.
“Are you sure?”
Poppy brushed chalk dust from her paws. “You have to give it back.”
“Of course.”
“Without sitting on it.”
He lowered himself very carefully. The seat gave a small squeak, and white fur spilled over both sides. Poppy watched the rear wheels. They stayed where they belonged.
Bram put one foot on a pedal.
His knee rose beneath his chin.
“Good morning,” he told it.
The other knee came up too. Now he could see the path only through a narrow gap between them.
“Can you steer?” Poppy asked.
“If nothing happens on either side.”
Half a Turn
He pressed the right pedal. The left one rose, bringing his knee firmly against the handlebar.
He tried the other way. The other knee arrived.
Poppy crouched beside the front wheel. “Your feet work.”
“Yes.”
“The pedals work.”
“Also yes.”
She looked up at him.
“There’s rather a lot between them.”
Bram let his feet settle on the warm paving stones. A breeze stirred the fur around his ears. Somewhere beyond the hedge, a sprinkler ticked steadily through the grass.
He glanced toward the garden gate, then down at the little front wheel.
“I don’t think we’re getting very far.”
“You haven’t tried pushing with your feet.”
“Is that allowed?”
“It’s how I started.”
Across the Chalk
Bram gave one gentle push against the stones. The tricycle rolled forward, its small tyres whispering over the path.
He lifted his feet.
For a moment, both paws floated beside the front wheel. His knees cleared the handlebar. The blue grips sat neatly in his hands, and the bell glittered in the sun.
Poppy clapped.
He was laughing when the wheel crossed the chalk line.
Then he put his feet down.
“Made it!” she said.
Bram looked back. He had travelled little more than the length of himself.
“Made it where?”
“Past my line. That’s how far I went the first time.”
He looked at the chalk again. One end was thick and white where she had carefully gone over it.
“Were you pleased?”
“I made Mama come outside.”
Bram’s grin returned. “An excellent distance, then.”
Once More
He shuffled the tricycle back to the starting point. Poppy stood beside the line, ready to clap again.
“Shall I move it farther?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
Bram found the bell with one finger.
Ding.
“I’d like to enjoy being good at this.”
Leave a comment