Toad's Wild Ride

We have a small plastic motorcycle that Toad loves to ride.  It is a manual, not an automatic, in that it is foot powered rather than battery powered.  His other grandparents have bought various (large) battery powered ride-on toys for Toad and K3, but DH and I prefer the kind that require some exercise to make move.

Anyway. . . Toad loves his red motorcycle.  He wants to get it out of the garage and ride it just about every time he is at this little place here.  This spring, he discovered that if he starts at the top of a slope and gives a push, the momentum and the slope will carry him along to the bottom.

From riding it down the slight slope of the sidewalk and the cement approach to the garage, he graduated to the little bit more slope of the curve of the driveway, and then, before the grass grew too thick and longer once warm weather really hit in late April or so, he would ride it down the hill in the yard from the parking area, past the wood boiler, and out towards the field.  He could really pick up some speed that way.

But, once the grass started growing in earnest, he found it was easier and faster to use his feet to power it down the driveway and around the loop from house to barn.

Earlier this week, DS1, K3 and Toad came over for a while in the evening.  Us adults were sitting out on the patio, talking, while K3 and Toad ran around playing, alternately riding the big wheel, the little green tractor, the motorcycle, and scrambling around on the two plastic play structures we were given this summer by some friends at church whose grandchildren had outgrown them.

All was going well, until, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Toad at the top of the railroad tie stairs that lead from behind the garage down to the patio.  He was at the top, then suddenly he was flying and flipping, landing halfway down with his motorcycle tumbling on top of him.

DS1 was out of his seat in a flash, running to retrieve Toad and to see if he was injured.

No harm done, just a few bumps.  Toad was more mad than hurt.  He was mad at the stairs, apparently.

I gently said "did you try to ride your motorcycle down the stairs?"

"Yes," he sniffed, his eyebrows knit in consternation.

"Toad, you have to go down the long way, on the grass." I told him, indicating the grassy slope that runs along the top of the terraced flowerbeds, about 60 feet or so, down into the backyard.

"The grass makes my motorcycle too slow," he informed me.

"Ah, but motorcycles don't do stairs very well." I replied.  "The grass doesn't hit your head like the stairs do."

Oh, the painful learning experiences a stubborn (and crafty) three year old boy has to go through!