The Sweet Taste of Victory

It all started as an innocent bike ride request after dinner. I should have known the turn it would take as I took off my flip flops, put on my running sneakers, and grabbed the jogging stroller.

My 5 year old took the lead like as he usually does, followed by me with the running stroller, then my daughter and my husband pulling up the rear.  Although this was supposed to be a  calm after dinner walk, they wanted to ride their bikes, so we had to jog, playing a game of cat and mouse as we weaved through the neighborhood, us chasing them of course.

My son obsessively likes to be in front, and takes off on the stretch between the curbs and then waits for everyone to catch up. After an extended wait at one corner to fix the chain on my 3 year old daughter's bike, George became preoccupied, wondering why daddy was in the back and I snuck into the lead. What started out as a joke, became a friendly race between the curbs, with him following closely at my heels and at times, trying to push me off the sidewalk, in race car fashion.

There is something you have to know about my son though, he is the typical 5 year old, he's a poor loser. And I don't just mean crying, I mean full on drop to the ground temper tantrum.

 So when we turned the last corner racing,I knew what I was in for as I took the lead and turned off the sidewalk into the street while he made a short detour to go around a car. With me on the street and him on the sidewalk,we were pedal for pedal, foot for foot. I was running hard and laughing and the look on his face was pure joy. That is until I turned the corner into the driveway, his chain gave way and he dropped to ground in defeat, his arms out stretched, tears in his eyes.

The ultra competitive athlete in me took over.

Without letting up, I picked it up a notch, raced to the sidewalk, laughing to the front step and extended my arms in the air in sweet victory and did a little victory dance, as I heard him shout out a screeching, "Nooooooo!" Loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

He took off his helmet, threw it to the ground. With a red face and tears welling up, he shouted, "It's not fair". To which I responded, "Life's not fair and mommy always wins." 

I couldn't contain myself, he may be a poor loser, but I as a mom, I am a rub-it-in-winner, and dropped to the ground in hysterical laughter.


Even Sophia, biked up to the house crying with daddy following behind giggling at the spectacle that had taken place. "Why are you crying?", I asked Sophia. She whined, "Mommy, you went to fast".

I took the baby in the house and came out to get George who was, beating the wheels of my jogging stroller with his plastic bat. As I went to take him in the house, he looked up at my husband and demanded, "Daddy, I want to go for a walk again. I want to go again, now".

Game on.

Mommy: 1

My 5 year old and his temper tantrum: 0