After many weeks of planning, researching, testing, purchasing and a number of false starts today we finally got out in the Croozer – ze German choice for baby bicycle trailers “high quality, intelligent transport solutions for anyone who enjoys being out and about by bike and who likes to live life spontaneously and simply”. Spontaneous and simple, that’s us.
Not really all that spontaneous when it comes to it actually, and not overly simple. After Milo’s first nap (to maximise the chance of congeniality) I first put on my helmet and high viz jacket, then strapped him into the ergo carrier, then grabbed his nappy backpack, dummy with dummy clip, Sophie the giraffe, blanket, extra beanie and water bottle. Then downstairs to the basement, awkwardly squatted down with him in the ergo to unlock the Croozer, crab shuffled sideways, dragging the Croozer while supporting his little head with my other hand, manoeuvred the Croozer into a position to attach my bike, adjusted the straps, placed the nino in, ensured entertainment was in arms’ reach so his well documented displeasure with confined spaces didn’t overwhelm him before we were moving, reattached the ergo to my chest ensuring the little poof thing didn’t fall out onto the garage floor. Then I placed the backpack in the rear of the Croozer, unlocked my bike, wheeled it over, again squatted down to entertain the child as I hitched the Croozer into place on the bike. And we were off! Almost. Actually we rode around and around for about 5 minutes waiting for a car to leave the garage, there is no manual opening switch from the inside, only the weight sensor. Eventually we asked one of the maintenance guys for help, and we were off! Very spontaneous indeed.
Once we were moving however the Croozer proved a terrific machine; Milo flip-flopping between tolerance and enjoyment. This is a wonderful spectrum; car seats and prams and things of this nature usually result in a range of teetering displeasure to rage.
So we picked our way through the back streets while we both got used to it, keeping to the foot paths and using our bell to alert pedestrians who were without exception very polite. We caught two comments on the breeze as we passed “oh wow that’s so cool” and “oh, so cute”. The Germans do produce handsomely designed vehicles.
Eventually we arrived at our destination ‘The Good Guys’ to purchase a multi-region DVD player to watch our foreign version of the West Wing and a Digital Set-Top Box for our ancient Sony television without an internal tuner (more Ashes preparation). This transition was much smoother, Milo out of the Croozer and into the ergo with minimal fuss.
Neither the bicycle or Croozer was thieved in the time we were inside so we headed home. After about 10 minutes I noted Milo had fallen asleep – victory! So instead of continuing on our set path we detoured to the park and rode around and around for about 45 minutes while he napped. In the park I noted even the slightest upward undulation with the Croozer is significantly more difficult than the flat, so perhaps this could be a good sleep/ exercise routine for future. If we could fit a podcast in at the same time teaching us ‘balcony viticulture’ surely a rip would develop in the space/ time continuum.
So we arrived home. Milo was refreshed and hungry for bolognese which we enjoyed together, I picked out and ate his kidney beans for him which, I think, is the very definition of love. Buoyed by our morning success we headed out in the pram for more productivity. Our corner dry cleaner unfortunately informed me he did not have the right implement to sew a badge onto the pocket of my tweed jacket but we had more success at our favoured framing shop, run by Czech twins, who had just the frames for our pictures. Seriously important tasks today.
Back at home Milo crawled around the balcony eating mint leaves, kangaroo paw, native violets, daisies, mulch, soil and I caught him using his little pincers in an attempt to lever up a dried up old worm. I drew the line at that and took him inside.
One great feature of staying home with one’s little baby, I have noticed, is the freedom to dance wildly with a captive audience. It takes very little to impress Milo, who enjoys all three of my dance moves. He sits up in my arms squealing, giggling and panting as we twirl around, executing the ‘point at the sky’, ‘running man’ and ‘chicken wings’ in sequence. Thus far his favourite track seems to be ‘Thrift Shop’ by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis.
After a languid afternoon tea of sweet potato and carrot it was time for an afternoon nap and as Milo awoke Kuepps arrived home; Milo bleary eyed and grinning. Looking to triple our luck Kuepps saddled up with Milo in the ergo and we walked up the hill to the chemist to buy more powdered food for the man, as we were running dangerously low on both human and chemical milk. A third successful jaunt for the day.
- Hours spent in vermiculture – 0.5
- Hours of dancing – 1
- Hours on the phone to new internet provider – 0.5
- Letters written to council about growing number of mynah birds – 0
- Hours spent researching the identity of mysterious neighbourhood trumpeteer – 0