I used to think that memories were made of gold.
I'm quickly learning that for some people (many little new people, in particular) memories are being made of wood, chrome, and a little bit of rubber combined into something called a Radio Flyer Scooter.
If you're like me, you've noticed every year can be measured distinctly from the last by a marked increase in daily brain clutter.
More rules to follow, more responsibilities, more threats at hand, more junk mail (both the digital and forest-clearing variety), etc.
, etc.
, all filling our minds over capacity at the expense of happy memories from more carefree times.
Nearly all of us have, however, memories of at least one thing from childhood that will never leave us, no matter what we have to deal with as adults.
That is because, for reasons unknown even to us, our early years are often characterized by an inordinate attachment to one particular toy, an item we inexplicably hold in higher esteem than all others.
It imprints itself on our consciousness like nothing else, so much so we affix ourselves to it as if it were necessary for our continued existence, and pity the misguided parent or caretaker who tries to separate us from it.
In my case that toy wasn't really a toy at all, but the very utilitarian, kid-friendly does-it-all American icon known as the Radio Flyer.
It was a go cart (on a hill), a bus (especially when you lost the coin toss and had to pull), a shelter (when inverted on four bricks with three buddies huddled underneath it in the rain), and, of course, you could haul anything in it from your friends to fishing gear.
It was the only "toy" a kid in my generation needed.
In my 4-year-old son's case, however, the toy that will define his developing years will unquestionably be his recently acquired Radio Flyer Scooter.
Just exactly what makes a little boy or girl so attached to one particular toy is anyone's guess, but there can be little doubt it has a lot to do with the child's developing character.
If you could ask anyone who had to deal with me at that age, they would surely tell you I liked to see intact objects...
cabinets, swing sets, and the occasional neighbor's pet...
disassembled into their component parts.
So the wagon was right up my alley, needing as I did to haul things off to be secretly dismantled, or haul parts back to my parents to have things restored once I realized I was in over my head (just kidding about the pets).
But I believe my boy's obsession with his new Radio Flyer Scooter has to do purely with mobility.
A kid gets on this little joy-maker and it's like he gets his first taste of freedom.
It not only makes it possible for the little tyke to do a respectable imitation of an older sibling or cousin (or parent, if you're one of those folks into the metro scooter-commute thing), but it also actually lets them wheel around and test the boundaries of their authorized range with alarming efficiency.
The effect this has had on my boy is nothing less than profound.
He carries himself with a new air of confidence and independence.
This isn't something I would want to let grow unchecked at his age (he's already suggested at least once that he doesn't need a ride because he could just as easily take the scooter to preschool), but my wife and I have to appreciate how happy it's made him to be the master of his own space.
The Radio Flyer Scooter makes a 4-year-old feel they've taken a step forward in childhood much the same way a high-schooler's first car helps them take a step toward adulthood.
In recent generations a child will often get fixated on a toy before they actually receive it; television advertising does a masterful job of inducing this phenomenon.
It seems with the Radio Flyer Scooter, however, parents are more often responsible for hunting them down of their own volition.
This must be at least partly due to a sense of nostalgia; there is scarcely any adult over 30 who grew up in the United States and didn't spend some part of their childhood as I did toting around, or being toted around in, a wagon emblazoned with the logo "Radio Flyer.
" In keeping with the same spirit of progress which dictates that kids now wear helmets whenever they ride a bicycle (we didn't), and that it is now not only acceptable, but desirable, that a 9-year-old carry a cell phone (it wasn't), we simply accept that Radio Flyers of choice today come with two wheels instead of four.
This rich historical perspective was entirely lost on my son, however, when he opened the largest among his various birthday presents last month and, upon revealing its contents, rewarded his mother and I with an expression similar to what could have been expected if the package contained a replacement part for our gas water heater.
"It's a scooter, son!" I said with sincere excitement.
I was looking forward to watching him play with it as much as I thought he would be anxious to get started.
"What do I do with it?" he asked in equally sincere innocence.
"We need to get the boy out more," I thought to myself, and cast a concerned glance at my wife.
She apparently has more sense, however, because she promptly realized the youngster had only unwrapped the back of the box and was valiantly attempting to decipher several paragraphs lauding the Radio Flyer Scooter as safe, durable, and easy to assemble.
She reached down and helped him remove the rest of the wrapping paper, revealing the front of the box and its large photograph of a boy not at all dissimilar to my son scooting along effortlessly in obvious high contentment.
This he could interpret immediately, and a smile more like that I had expected to begin with quickly replaced the puzzlement on his cute little mug.
As the back of the box promised, the Radio Flyer Scooter was easy to assemble, despite the fact that my now fully-energized 4-year-old was impatient enough for his inaugural scoot to see a need for supervising Daddy's assembly work.
Fifteen minutes later a replica of the scooter under the happy boy on the box stood under my own son's anxious feet, and chaos was launched off our front doorstep.
We are fortunate to still live in a neighborhood that features sidewalks where children like my son live high adventures under the watchful eye of parents and friendly neighbors.
The Radio Flyer Scooter has been a most appropriate addition onto that scene, and my boy now looks every bit as content with his best toy as I undoubtedly did all those years ago with mine...
even if it does only have half the wheels.
I'm quickly learning that for some people (many little new people, in particular) memories are being made of wood, chrome, and a little bit of rubber combined into something called a Radio Flyer Scooter.
If you're like me, you've noticed every year can be measured distinctly from the last by a marked increase in daily brain clutter.
More rules to follow, more responsibilities, more threats at hand, more junk mail (both the digital and forest-clearing variety), etc.
, etc.
, all filling our minds over capacity at the expense of happy memories from more carefree times.
Nearly all of us have, however, memories of at least one thing from childhood that will never leave us, no matter what we have to deal with as adults.
That is because, for reasons unknown even to us, our early years are often characterized by an inordinate attachment to one particular toy, an item we inexplicably hold in higher esteem than all others.
It imprints itself on our consciousness like nothing else, so much so we affix ourselves to it as if it were necessary for our continued existence, and pity the misguided parent or caretaker who tries to separate us from it.
In my case that toy wasn't really a toy at all, but the very utilitarian, kid-friendly does-it-all American icon known as the Radio Flyer.
It was a go cart (on a hill), a bus (especially when you lost the coin toss and had to pull), a shelter (when inverted on four bricks with three buddies huddled underneath it in the rain), and, of course, you could haul anything in it from your friends to fishing gear.
It was the only "toy" a kid in my generation needed.
In my 4-year-old son's case, however, the toy that will define his developing years will unquestionably be his recently acquired Radio Flyer Scooter.
Just exactly what makes a little boy or girl so attached to one particular toy is anyone's guess, but there can be little doubt it has a lot to do with the child's developing character.
If you could ask anyone who had to deal with me at that age, they would surely tell you I liked to see intact objects...
cabinets, swing sets, and the occasional neighbor's pet...
disassembled into their component parts.
So the wagon was right up my alley, needing as I did to haul things off to be secretly dismantled, or haul parts back to my parents to have things restored once I realized I was in over my head (just kidding about the pets).
But I believe my boy's obsession with his new Radio Flyer Scooter has to do purely with mobility.
A kid gets on this little joy-maker and it's like he gets his first taste of freedom.
It not only makes it possible for the little tyke to do a respectable imitation of an older sibling or cousin (or parent, if you're one of those folks into the metro scooter-commute thing), but it also actually lets them wheel around and test the boundaries of their authorized range with alarming efficiency.
The effect this has had on my boy is nothing less than profound.
He carries himself with a new air of confidence and independence.
This isn't something I would want to let grow unchecked at his age (he's already suggested at least once that he doesn't need a ride because he could just as easily take the scooter to preschool), but my wife and I have to appreciate how happy it's made him to be the master of his own space.
The Radio Flyer Scooter makes a 4-year-old feel they've taken a step forward in childhood much the same way a high-schooler's first car helps them take a step toward adulthood.
In recent generations a child will often get fixated on a toy before they actually receive it; television advertising does a masterful job of inducing this phenomenon.
It seems with the Radio Flyer Scooter, however, parents are more often responsible for hunting them down of their own volition.
This must be at least partly due to a sense of nostalgia; there is scarcely any adult over 30 who grew up in the United States and didn't spend some part of their childhood as I did toting around, or being toted around in, a wagon emblazoned with the logo "Radio Flyer.
" In keeping with the same spirit of progress which dictates that kids now wear helmets whenever they ride a bicycle (we didn't), and that it is now not only acceptable, but desirable, that a 9-year-old carry a cell phone (it wasn't), we simply accept that Radio Flyers of choice today come with two wheels instead of four.
This rich historical perspective was entirely lost on my son, however, when he opened the largest among his various birthday presents last month and, upon revealing its contents, rewarded his mother and I with an expression similar to what could have been expected if the package contained a replacement part for our gas water heater.
"It's a scooter, son!" I said with sincere excitement.
I was looking forward to watching him play with it as much as I thought he would be anxious to get started.
"What do I do with it?" he asked in equally sincere innocence.
"We need to get the boy out more," I thought to myself, and cast a concerned glance at my wife.
She apparently has more sense, however, because she promptly realized the youngster had only unwrapped the back of the box and was valiantly attempting to decipher several paragraphs lauding the Radio Flyer Scooter as safe, durable, and easy to assemble.
She reached down and helped him remove the rest of the wrapping paper, revealing the front of the box and its large photograph of a boy not at all dissimilar to my son scooting along effortlessly in obvious high contentment.
This he could interpret immediately, and a smile more like that I had expected to begin with quickly replaced the puzzlement on his cute little mug.
As the back of the box promised, the Radio Flyer Scooter was easy to assemble, despite the fact that my now fully-energized 4-year-old was impatient enough for his inaugural scoot to see a need for supervising Daddy's assembly work.
Fifteen minutes later a replica of the scooter under the happy boy on the box stood under my own son's anxious feet, and chaos was launched off our front doorstep.
We are fortunate to still live in a neighborhood that features sidewalks where children like my son live high adventures under the watchful eye of parents and friendly neighbors.
The Radio Flyer Scooter has been a most appropriate addition onto that scene, and my boy now looks every bit as content with his best toy as I undoubtedly did all those years ago with mine...
even if it does only have half the wheels.
Source...