Last fall, full of eagerness about joining the ranks of the faux-fit one sees cycling around Boulder and its environs, I invested in a Burley trailer for my littlest. I did all manner of research, finding this trailer to be the ultimate in baby comfort so Eric could follow me on my cycling jaunts that somehow I envisioned as being multi-hour rides through semi-rural farmland.
The first problem was the helmet. I could not find one small enough. Eric, even though he was two years old, is quite small for his age and apparently has an unusually small head. Helmets made for infants did not fit him. All the information I could amass said “if your baby’s head is too small for a helmet, don’t take him on a ride”.
So I waited. How long does it take for a head to grow, anyway?
Not being able to stand it any longer, I figured 8 months was long enough and I’ve had all I can stand of carrying about this extra 10 pounds that have somehow attached themselves to me while at the same time seeing cyclists everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.
Today was the day to test the Burley.
Nathaniel and I finished putting it together, we got it hitched up, put air in everyone’s tires, and I strapped on my cycling gloves and helmet, not to mention Eric’s helmet. When I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride, he said, “Ga”. He sort of looked like he was strapped into a racing car cockpit, but he looked ready.
Off we went.
After approximately two minutes, I heard a “thunk” coming from behind me. Cleverly turning my head while not hitting any parked cars, I glimpsed Eric’s bare head inside the trailer. He had removed his helmet.
We stopped, I unstrapped the combination window/sunscreen cover (window rolled up to catch any sort of breeze, as it was already past 11 am and was at least 85 degrees), reattached Eric’s helmet, and we were off.
Thunk.
New record, maybe 30 seconds.
This time Eric got a lecture (we’re not going to be able to ride if you take your helmet off; the helmet stays on) and strapped it extra tight.
Waah, sounds of a struggle. I look back, and Eric is choking himself with the helmet strap, but can’t remove it because it’s so tight. We repeat the last two steps (reattachment, lecture).
Waaah again.
I give up, remove the helmet, and tell Eric we’re going home. He sings all the way home, feeling the cool breeze in his hair.
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