Blow away the dreams that tear you apart

One of my self-perceived faults as a dad is my insistence on providing important and memorable experiences for Jack and Ruby. You know, always trying to out-do our last time together. I guess that’s commonly known as the Disney Dad syndrome.

Of course, that comes from not seeing my kids enough. And as an aside, any dad who doesn’t want to spend all of his spare time with his kids is a piss-poor excuse for a dad.

But I have found it’s the little moments that seem to matter most: the off-key family car singalong on “When I’m President," the help I get with making the pizza when Ruby works the dough and then sprinkles on the cheese, the sharing of the right song at the right time.

But last Saturday was different. It was a big moment, or at least I was hoping for a big moment.

Ruby had never learned to ride a bike. I went to a bike shop and bought her a used Trek, which was too much bike, in my mind, to learn to ride. But I wanted her to have the best I could afford.

We started on Friday afternoon. She climbed up eagerly, and I held the back of the back as she started to pedal. Time after time, she would go about five feet before tipping over – first to the left, and then to the right. I kept a tight hold on the bike and tried to encourage her. Jack also offered tips, being the experienced and strong biker that he is. Finally, her patience ran out, and lack of success proved to be too much. I couldn't blame her.

Saturday morning came around, and I was surprised to hear her want to try again. We headed to the nearby office park, which is vacant on the weekends.

We repeated our Friday routine, I helped her get on, held the bike for the few seconds as she started to pedal and then let go.

This time was different; she bobbed and weaved and swerved. But did not tip over. At least until she was ready to stop. I helped her back up and off she went, a little further each time. Again and again and again.

For some dads and parents, maybe this wasn't that big a deal. After all, doesn’t everyone learn to ride a bike?

But to me, it was bigger. Much bigger. These days, many seemingly mundane and everyday moments are magnified, at least in my mind. But I really wanted this to be as memorable for her as for me.

It didn't disappoint on my end.