Whatcha got under the hood?

Deston recently came into possession of a most excellent hand-me-down scooter, compliments of his cousin Nicholas. It came complete with a Hot Wheels helmet, perfect for my speed-seeking three-year-old. Deston has since been very keen to ride his scooter at every opportunity and I'm happily surprised at the improvement of his mobility.

One Saturday morning we took a trip to the closest grocery store, two and half avenue (read, long) blocks away, or a 5-10 minute walk, depending. Before the scooter, I would take Deston in the stroller and carry most of the groceries home. These would be short trips for a few basics or missing ingredients. This particular Saturday, however, I brought our old lady cart and Deston scootered. I had my qualms. How busy would the sidewalks be? How would he handle the intersections? What if he went crazy in the store and ran into shelves and standing displays. And, worst of all, what if he got tired of his scooter and wanted to be carried? The route to the store (Pioneer, in case you're wondering) is also our route to and from the bus and Deston is famous for pitching a fit about being carried home.

A combination of providence and good planning quelled my fears that morning. I got us out the door early enough that there was not much foot traffic. Similarly, Pioneer was relatively empty. Deston proved adept at navigating the intersections; I started by having him walk the scooter across the street, but he soon began to ride across. He didn't miss the chance to point out how fast he could do this. I was most relieved that he minded my warning that he couldn't ride his scooter in the store. I was a little amazed at how he walked it the entire time we shopped, not even attempting to sneak a ride. The lure of doing something appealing (like zooming through store aisles on a new scooter) often trumps following the rules, and I was so proud that he didn't challenge me.

So, I managed to get more groceries in one trip than I normally could have and Deston got some terrific morning exercise and the opportunity to practice valuable scootering skills. I felt pretty pleased with myself that this experiment in independent travel was so successful. Since then we've done easier rides around the neighborhood and to local parks.

One evening after I had picked him up from daycare, we dropped off our stuff, picked up the scooter, and headed to a very nice playground that is always teeming with Brooklynites, young and old, from Orthodox Jews to Italian Americans. Almost as soon as we arrived, Deston saw a boy close to his age who was also riding a scooter. From my vantage point on the bench, I watched as Deston approached him. Deston's conversation starter was, naturally, the scooters. Deston launched into a comparison of the two scooters (three wheels vs. two, height of the handles, brake style). They talked shop for a bit and then were off, weaving in and out of children, ball players, parent and grandparents.

I was struck by how manly their initial exchange was. They could have been 16 and talking about cars or 45 and talking about golf clubs. Sure, we're all drawn to individuals who share our interests. I remember when I was five, I met the girl who would become my childhood best friend. We began our friendship by comparing the contents of our purses. There was just an undeniable manliness to Deston's approach to making friends. To me, it's a part of his inherent boy-ness that I think is partially innate and partially cultural.

In any event, it was completely adorable. I'm glad Deston has his scooter, not only for the hours of fun it will afford, but also because it's helping him meet playmates. I also like that he is so boy-ish. My inner girly-girl is surprised at how fun boy toys can be and how sweet tough little guys sometimes are.