Lost Bike

My mother used to have a “Saturday Box.” If she found a toy or article of clothing or sandwich on the ground, she would pop it into a little cardboard box, which we could not access until Saturday morning.

It was meant to teach us how to clean up after ourselves. All it really taught us was how to wait until Mom had her nightly bottle of wine and go raid the Saturday Box after she went night night.

We do not have a Saturday coffer at our house. And as such, our floors are littered with child detritus. Shoes and socks being the greatest offenders. Kid gets home. Kid removes shoes and socks. Shoes and socks get chucked. Child asks parent later where his shoes went. Parent yells at child.

Yelling at them about it has ceased all meaning. I’ve taken to just pointing at items until they get removed. I like this method because it’s so passive aggressive.

As you can read from the title of this blog, Elijah lost his bike a couple weeks ago. We rode by our little park after a nice long bike adventure and Eli spotted some of his friends. Excited by the prospect of him doing something in the actual sunlight, I bid him a farewell and went home to practice Fortnite. Eli came home after dark, which made me very happy.

The next morning, we were climbing in the car to attend Luca’s soccer game when Eli became ashen faced. “I left my bike at the park,” he breathed, eyes wide with fear.

Fear of getting yelled at by me. And boy did he get yelled at. Responsibility. Carelessness. Kids who aren’t as lucky as you. Petty larceny. Spoiled children. These were just some of the topics of my lecture.

Diana, who is a much better parent than I am, suggested we drive to the park on the way to the game, in the hopes no one wanted a nice bike that was left under a gazebo all night.

The bike was not there. See? See? People suck!

There was, however, a note taped to the gazebo. The note read, “Found bike. Call if it’s yours.” Oh wait. People may not suck after all.

After a few panicked attempts, a nice man answered. He asked us to describe the bike just to make sure. We immediately forgot what Eli’s bike looked like. It’s blue? Maybe? Has at least one wheel. It’s either a Mongoose or literally any other bike brand.

Luckily, the man believed us and said he’d meet us at the park. I forced Eli to come with me and bring a bottle of wine as a reward. I continued my lecture explaining how much I hated meeting new people and he was making my social anxiety flair up big time.

The very nice man approached and we shouted, “Hooray!” Eli slid forward and offered the wine and a rehearsed mumbled thank you. The very nice man tried to refuse the wine but we convinced him to take it. Neither party knowing it was a super expensive bottle Diana was saving for a special occasion.

We happily walked home and I let up on the lecture. And as soon as Eli got in the door he chucked his shoes across the room.

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