she got a cycle for christmas, from us her parents!
the cycle is not a delicate, dainty pink cycle. its a bulbous macho yellow thing pretending to be a motorcycle. i love it. ofcourse if our baby was a boy no way in hell would i have bought it. children of parents like us( actually mothers like me) are doomed!
she perches on her cycle and jangles the horn which belts out tinny tunes that remotely resemble kajra re. she nods her head to the rhythm, pleased as punch.
more than the cycle, and even the horn, she loves the fact that she can lift one end of the seat and peer into the cavity below. her own private hiding place for all kinds of things.
cycle cum motorcycle cum radio cum private hiding place cum many other things. maybe she will realise that pushing the pedals with her feet is the original purpose of this contraption.