"This Was A Bad Idea!"

We had a very traumatic moment this morning. The dogs needed to be walked, well, I also needed to be walked, and I offered that Wyatt ride his "Go Diego Go!" Big Wheel bicycle, rather than sit in the jogger stroller on our 20 minute route. Wyatt was very excited, since we've never gone that far before on his bike.
It seemed to take him forever to learn this whole bike thing. Those little knocked knees just wouldn't quite move the right way to get those pedals going. But recently he finally mastered it well enough that I thought he could handle a ride around the park. I explained the rules, "Stay on the sidewalk," "Wait for me," "If its too hard to ride up hill, then get off and push the back." Following that last rule, once we got up to the hill, that's when the torture began. Sitting down, standing up, no matter which way he tried, Wyatt struggled to move that bike. Oh the agony of a three year old's world! Crocodile tears began flowing as I tried to convince Wyatt just a little bit more of this hill and we were going to be ok. Finally we made it, and then we had to take a break and just try to overcome the strain we had just been through.
The next few steps were filled with a debate about using the pedals or not. "Wyatt, if you pedal your bike, instead of just pushing it with your feet, we'll go faster." "No! I don't want to pedal!" "But Wyatt, there are people behind us trying to walk, and I've got the 2 dogs that just want to walk. Why don't you pedal your bike." "No! I want to just go home!!!" Crying, sobbing, screaming begins. "Wyatt, we are going home, we're going this way. Just a few more steps and then its all downhill." (By this point, this whole outing was going downhill.) "No! No! No!" I sat down, and we took another break.
Finally after a little more rest, we finished the next little section of our walk, which went without incident and we made it to the last part of our walk, all downhill. "Perfect," I thought. "He'll just pedal down and we'll finish on a positive note. Wyatt might want to do this again!" And then it happened. A blister formed on Wyatt's fragile little thumb from the long, terrible bike ride. Oh the pain! The agony! Skin peeling off and stinging pain shooting through his hand! Oh the horror! Doing my best to mother my child, I tried to reassure Wyatt that a "Go Diego Go!" band-aid was waiting for him at the house. Picture this, Wyatt, still riding the Big Wheel, with only one hand, because clearly the injured hand was completely crippled, same big crocodile tears as before streaming down his face, and screams and wailing of the most terrible kind sailing down the street. At this point, that's when my child very firmly says to me, between sobs, "This was a bad idea!" Yes it was, Wyatt, yes it was! Thank you for sharing your opinion with me!