I don't know who was more heartbroken, me or him. This is the tricycle he's been riding since he learned how to ride one. This is the tricycle, which he wakes up every morning and first thing asks me is, "Can I go outside and ride?" This is the tricycle that he zooms up and down the sidewalk, with me jogging after him, every day. This is the tricycle that he so adorably nicknamed his "bike-truck." This is the tricycle that lights up his face each time he jumps behind the wheel. Get the idea? This tricycle was a big part of our lives. We are so sad.
I put an ad on craigslist, but who ever checks those? I don't.
Oh well. Maybe there's a bigger lesson here that needs to be learned. Or maybe the person who took it home should get 100 years bad luck. Or maybe the person who took it home needed it more than we did. Wait, that's impossible.
We miss you bike-truck.
