Starting toward the end of last year, my wife and I decided to get serious about getting healthier. Before we had our daughter we were close to being in the best shape of our life. We were eating right, going for walks, and all sorts of other things. Then my wife got pregnant and hungry. Like eating for two people hungry, which is understandable because she was eating for two people. Me on the other hand? Well apparently some Dads experience sympathy “pains” during pregnancy. I experience sympathy weight gain, like 20 lbs! The difference between my wife an I? She gave birth, and I bought new pants. What could I say when she wanted some chocolate cake? No? To a pregnant lady? Not gonna happen! So I sat down and ate chocolate cake, and brownies, and cookies, and ice cream, and, well, you get the idea. Fast forward a few months, and we got back to eating a lot better and getting back into form. We couldn’t always go on our walks around the neighborhood though due to rain, or just plain busyness. In February, we decided to get an exercise bike. Yes an exercise bike, not a coat hanger. We actually do use it. In fact, both of us love it. I ordered it online and within a couple days it arrived.
My wife and I were both excited about seeing the box by the front door as we got home from work, and were actually surprised it wasn’t bigger. So we went into the house through the garage and I made my way to the door. I soon found out that whoever packed this thing needs an award or something, because they somehow managed to fit a 6ft by 4ft machine into what seemed like a 3ft by 4ft box. When I first grabbed box to lift it into the house I was in for another surprise... the thing weighed more than me! Instead of lifting it, I dragged it into the house. It was at this point I learned something about my daughter who at the time was 1 year old. She wants to do everything I do, and is more curious than a penguin at a wedding. She had to help me drag this monstrosity into the house. I don’t mean that I needed her help, I mean she HAD to help me. As in, I’m going to scream for the next year if you don’t let me help you drag this into the house. I grabbed an end, and told her to grab a piece of tape that was on the box. She grabbed an opening in the cardboard instead. Either way we got it into the house.
My daughter then went and played with my wife while I pulled out all the pieces. She wanted to help then too, but I didn’t want to risk her getting into something. Piece by piece i started separating out the parts of this bike in order to put it together. Luckily the instructions were very informative. Well they at least looked informative. I’m pretty sure the text was in another language, but the pictures were pretty. No worries, I’m a man and as the man of the house I would figure this thing out. It really wasn’t too bad other than the actual wire that connected the handle bars to the pedals of the bike. The manufacturer conveniently let that little number slide down into the metal pipe of the base of the bike. This pipe had no other opening then the top, and I could barely see the little wire 4ft down inside it. But with some ingenuity, multiple pairs of pliers, a broken curtain rod, hammer, and a few punches to what would be the face of the bike, the wire was retrieved. Once I got that part down after only 2 hours (can you sense the sarcasm here?) my daughter entered the room again determined to help. As I went around the bike screwing in the various bolts with an allen key, she watched me so intensely. After a little bit she found the screwdriver I had brought in and immediately went to work. After each bolt I completed, she would come behind me and and put that screwdriver on the bolt. I don’t think she was happy with the work I was doing, because she double and triple checked everything. Within an hour, thanks to her help, we finished. Her work wasn’t done though. Over the next few days she constantly would go into that room and point to where the screwdriver is kept. She would then spend ten minutes making sure each bolt was in its place and tightened.
This fascination with putting things together didn’t stop there. A few weeks later, I was tightening up some of our chairs in the kitchen, and she needed a screwdriver to help me. She wants to fix everything now, to the point that we bought her her own little tool set. Without her there to help me with that exercise bike, I’m not sure I would have finished that night. She provided some very well needed comic relief in a situation that is very frustrating. Before she got in there I wanted to throw the bike out the window. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, considering it weighs as much as a car, but i could have rented a fork lift or something.
Now my wife and I can enjoy using the bike to help us get and stay in shape. Kaylee enjoys it too. She now thinks it is a motorcycle. She climbs onto the seat, stands up, grabs the handle bars and goes “VRRROOOOOOOOMMMMMM”
Hey, she built the thing, so she can pretend it is anything she wants!
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