Page 30 of The Summer Arrangement
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“Can I come out yet?” I holler from the mudroom. Whatever these girls have planned, it’s happening in the garage. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what they’re doing in there. Originally, I thought they might’ve baked dessert or created an art project.
“Not quite,” Lizzy quickly responds on a grunt.
When the outside garage door opens, my fingers itch to turn the knob in front of me. I’m on pins and needles as I wait to be summoned. Milli loves surprises. She’s three, so I can usually sniff them out a mile away before they’re revealed. Today, I’m clueless.
“Okay, Daddy!” Milli shouts. “I’m ready!”
Opening the mudroom door, I expect to see her on the other side, but all I see are my two vehicles. Walking out to the driveway, I hear my daughter shout, “I’m ready, Iz! Let’s go!”
“Okay, chin up,” Lizzy says as they come into view. “You’ve got this!”
My heart stops as my daughter glides toward me on a red bike.
She’s wearing a matching helmet and protective gear on her knees and elbows. Lizzy’s jogging right beside her, holding onto the seat.
Wait… that’s not a bike. Where are the pedals?
Milli’s deep in concentration as her tongue slips from the side of her mouth, but the minute she spots me, she shouts, “Daddy! Look at me!”
She wobbles slightly, but Lizzy quickly reminds her, “Chin over the handlebar, Mills. You’ve got this. Let’s show him what you’ve learned!”
That’s all it takes for Milli to straighten and keep gliding my way. Her feet push along the pavement, and she steers right past me on the sidewalk in front of our house.
From behind, I watch as Lizzy’s hand hovers closely behind her seat. Holy shit, she’s doing this all on her own!
“Ohmigod, Mills, you’re riding a bike!”
Not wanting to miss out on the action, I jog and quickly catch up with them. Milli squeals with delight as she goes faster and faster.
With the sidewalk coming to an end, my stomach clenches when Lizzy warns, “Whoa, Mills. Slow down.”
Of course, my daredevil of a child ignores her.
Lizzy’s calm but firmly states, “Milli, we need to slow down…You don’t know how to turn yet.”
Lizzy’s pace picks up, and she grabs hold of the bike seat with one hand, while reaching for the handlebar with the other. “Emilia, it’s time to stop pushing.”
The use of her full name does the trick. Milli slows, just as the sidewalk nearly comes to an end.
Instead of having my daughter get off the bike to turn around, in a well-practiced move, Lizzy warns, “Hold on,” and literally picks her up along with the bike and spins her in the opposite direction.
Once back on the ground and steady, Milli asks, “Go again?”
“Holy Moly, Mills! You’ve been holding out on me. Where did this bike come from?”
“My Iz got it for me!” My daughter beams.
“She did, did she? Just how long have you been practicing?”
Punching her hip, she looks at me as if I should already know the answer. “She got ittoday, Daddy.”
I glance between my daughter and Lizzy.
“Yep. I found it on the way back from our walk at a garage sale! Can you believe it?” Lizzy boasts. “Milli’s picking it up like a champ!”
“You taught her to ride,today?” I ask in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
