One fine autumn day, last weekend, Kit and I spent a good deal of time dressing warmly. When we were so swaddled that we could hardly bend our limbs, due to an overabundance of sleeves and trouser legs, we took Milly, my bicycle out for a ride.
After shedding several layers to facilitate the crucial act of pedalling, we set off along the bike path winding along the Swan River.
The area is rich with bird life, and that day was no exception. From his vantage point in Milly’s basket, Kit enthusiastically wrongly identified a dozen species of bird. He says I am worse at bird watching because I think everything is a cormorant. In my defense, there are no less than three species of cormorant that live locally.
We cycled along bickering happily, me telling him that there is no such thing as a Rusty Spotted Fork Bill, and him accusing me of Chronic Geriatric Myopia.
Unfortunately, as we rounded a bend, a magpie swooped us threateningly. While it is well-known that magpies often swoop people during nesting season, it is less well-known that they don’t particularly like Kit at any time of year. This may be because he occasionally chases them wielding cutlery, and shrieking obscenities.
Kit was terrified, “Go, Mum! Go!” he squeaked, yelling obscenities, and scrabbling around for spare cutlery. So off I pedalled like a bat out of hell, Kit shouting and waving a teaspoon from Milly’s basket as threateningly as possible (that is to say not very threateningly at all).
By the time we reached safety, poor Milly had sustained a puncture to her front tyre.
When we got home, Kit’s Dad offered to take her in to the bike shop the next day.
When he got home I asked him, “How did you go?”
Kit immediately answered for him, “We couldn’t fit Milly in Dad’s car, so we took off her front wheel, and just took that to the bike shop.”
Kit’s Dad coughed. “We?!” he asked, rubbing a bruise on his leg.
“Well, if you had only stopped screaming, ‘Ow!’ and listened to me, it might have turned out a lot better,” Kit retorted.
They glared at each other.
Kit turned to me and continued, “Dad took in the wheel to show the bike doctor, and asked him if he could fix it. Then the bike doctor gave him this funny look, and said, ‘Maybe, but I’m going to need a lot of parts!’”