Thirty Minute 1/2 Mile

"Mom, I want to ride my scooter," Jacob yelled at me, zooming by on his bike.
"Go for it!" I replied, ever the enabler.
"No! Around the block!" he yelled, now even farther away.
I was standing in my neighbor Nora's yard, catching up like only a SAHM and a single older lady can do. Two minutes later he came back by on his scooter with more important news, "Mom, Beau wants Bekah's scooter and it's stuck."
When he looped by the third time (some conversations are hard to get out of), Beau had freed the scooter and they were both ready to go.
...Around the block....hmm...I wasn't so sure about Jacob's idea because Beau obviously would not be content riding on the back of my bike. He wanted to walk/drag Bekah's scooter the whole way. While I was trying to decide what to do Beau had taken some initiative and was two houses ahead of me. I caught up, lowered the handles to Beau height (about two feet off the ground), and decided to pace myself for a thirty minute half mile.
This is how our walk went:
Beau would walk the scooter until it strayed off the sidewalk. Then he would reach down and grab the foot part and move it back onto the sidewalk, huffing and puffing just a little bit. He'd walk for ten feet and get distracted by a bug/sign/rock/electric meter and throw his scooter on the ground to inspect. (Poor Barbie scooter took a beating.) Then I would kindly/laughingly/impatiently call to him to catch up to me. He would pick up his scooter and start walking again when suddenly a car/newspaper/airplane would distract him again and down would go the scooter. I'd yell for him to catch up to Jacob (who was ahead of us, looping around patiently whenever he got too far ahead), and Beau would yell, "Okay," and run full speed ahead, leaving the scooter on the ground. I would pick up the scooter and follow Beau for another twenty feet until he realized I was carrying his scooter. Then he'd yell at me, I'd give it back and he would start walking with it again. At one point Jacob yelled for Beau to put his foot on the scooter and Beau did it for about three steps and gave up. Whenever the scooter started trailing in the wrong direction Beau would shake the handle bars vigorously and grunt, "RRRR," until Barbie was sufficiently chastened. He did that at least five times. He stopped twice to look at "dodjes" (trucks, obviously), and once to watch a "baby," (car, of course). He watched dogs barking, squished all offending ants, tried to steal one newspaper. On the last leg of our sojourn he ditched Barbie for good and instead lost himself in every crack and hole in the wall and sidewalk, at least until I told him there were bugs in there and he jumped at the mention of them and quickly rescued his hand. He does not have a good rapport with bugs.
By the time we made it home the breeze had lost its chill and my back was sufficiently warmed by the sun. Both scooters were still in good working condition and nobody was crying, plus I had been gifted the fixed memory of Beau's "I'm headed somewhere important" walk and his intoxication with every little detail.
Our walk was as refreshing as the rose I stopped to smell along the way.
Really.