The Helmet

One of Maeve's few words is hat. She knows what her hat is and where it goes. The word hat has also now been extended to include her helmet. (SO AWESOME that we are outside and using the bike again). Maeve used to HATE the helmet, most likely because it fell over her face like a fencing mask. She has grown now and fits into it better. I fear, much like her mother, she will have a small head. If it wasn't for those plastics breaking down she may never need a new helmet again.

Anyway, Maeve and I biked to Monty's Blue Plate the other night for dinner. Mark is still harboring resentment about that one. He loves Monty's and we went on a night he wouldn't be home. Who wants to cook for one and half? If Milo was here, I would have cooked, at least it would have been cooking for two. I digress. We parked the biked, took our gear off and started walking into the diner. Maeve soon turned back and was pulling her helmet out of the Burley and saying, "hat, "Hat," "HAT." All the while with the her head tilted down to indicate that she wanted me to put the helmet back on, which I did, who could resist. Little did I know that she would insist on keeping it on through out the meal. Folks were looking at me and I felt like I had either a mentally challenged child on my hands or one of those unfortunate kids with the misshapened heads.

I guess I can count my blessings that she likes the darn thing. It would be a bummer if she didn't and a lot of crying would ensue as I tried to lash it to her head and strap her in the Burley. Instead, she is breaking out of the house and making b-lines for the Burley and her helmet.

Thank goodness for spring!