Small Wheels in the Big City

Last night, my son's Chanukah present was a Razor scooter. He's talked about getting one for months, to the point that over the summer, he and I started (just started, never finished) a reward sticker chart so that he could work toward getting it.  And with a kid on his school bus riding a scooter to the bus stop every morning, there's been daily reinforcement of the "that's so cool" factor. (this same kid's mom even brings the scooter to the afternoon bus stop, so "Scooter Boy" zooms away every day.)
 
So, having done lots of research about types and colors and places for ordering it, I pretty much threw it all out the window and went to ToysRUs, where I walked out with the most common--and least expensive--model.  As excited as I was when I walked out of the store with the long, narrow box, I wondered, would he be upset that it wasn't a fancier model? Would this be yet another time when he was reminded of how my being between jobs was affecting his life?
 
We lit candles.  I gave his sisters their gifts.  Then I went into my bedroom to get the big bag.  Would he like it?  Would I pass Mom 101, the course I repeat every day of my life?
 
It didn't take him long to know what was in the bag, and his eyes lit up, just as I'd hoped.  "You got the smaller one because it's cheaper, right?" he said, which was true. But before I knew it, with no help from anyone, he had snapped the parts together and was weaving around the short narrow halls of our apartment.  This morning, he rode it to the school bus, and I carried it, folded, as I did errands (at which point, I was VERY glad I'd gone with the small one).  And, Mom 101 star student that I am, I took it when I met his afternoon bus. I could see him peeking out the yellow school bus window to check if I had it.  Off the bus and onto the scooter he hopped, zooming all the way home, telling me about his day as he did. He even asked to scooter the 15 blocks to pick up his sister AND talked her into walking home so he could scooter some more. This from the guy who is obsessed with buses.  It's as if his new wheels have freed something in him.  It doesn't matter if the wheels are smaller, they're wheels, and that's all he needed.  He's still careening around our apartment as I'm writing this, so I guess I did okay, and his scootering may get us all into very good shape.
 
Now I just have to figure out how to slow him down long enough to practice piano!