Easy Come, Easy Go (& Easy Come Again!)

Last Tuesday was a sunny warm day, and in the spirit of soaking up as much of MN's last few weeks of summer, I decided to take the boys to the beach up the street, where my niece and nephew met us. 7th Street beach is where the "local" neighborhood kids go. It's a smaller, quieter beach and provides many familiar faces and fond memories. The kids parked their bikes and we began our decent down a steep set of wooden stairs to the bottom of a large grassy hill. We played and played. Heading into the dinner hour, I decide it's time to pack it up. (You mothers out there know what it's like trying to gather up a bunch of sandy, soggy & reluctant kids...) We made the climb up the stairs bringing us out to Lake Avenue and that's when it all came crashing down.

Elliott's voice could be heard for blocks... "MY BIKE!" "IT'S GONE!"

About 3 weeks ago, Andy and I broke down and got Elliott a new bike as an early birthday gift. He was in desperate need of 2-wheel transportation that didn't have his knees bumping handlebars - I still giggle thinking about how much he'd outgrown his last one. He carefully picked out his new Invader trick bike. He loved that it not only had pegs in the back, but in the front too. We could clearly see the love he had for this new ride, being as the kick-stand was always in use, and he mildly tweaked out any time a neighbor kid put an alleged scratch on it.

So, back to the beach...

I raced to the top of the stairs and took in the sad view of Noah's little crocodile bike sitting alone. Elliott's was indeed gone.

Elliott was in a state of panic as the three other kids did their best to take in what happened. Even Noah, who had been giving me a good portion of grief up to that point, found it fit to sit quietly as mommy figured out her next move. As I dialed the police, nearby people walking the bike path couldn't help but hear Elliott's painful sobs. Two couples stood and listened to Elliott's rendition of the whole thing. They were all full of anger and sympathy. The police officer brightened Elliott's day a bit by providing him with both a promise to do his best in finding the treasured Invader, and a stack of baseball cards including favorite player Joe Mauer.

After a full week and no luck, we made the drive back to Target for a duplicate bike. Noah fell asleep on the ride home, so we decied to drive around town a bit, enjoying the quiet. Used to keeping our eyes peeled for our stolen property, we drive to some of the more dismal parts of town. Andy joked, stating we would probably find the bike now that we've paid for a new one. As irony would have it, he noticed something... He pulled into the parking lot of a nearby park and walked into the pavilian to take a better look at a very familiar bike. Two punk kids, age 14 or 15, stated it was theirs. Finding it curious that kids their size would ride such a small bike, Andy came back to the car and phoned the police. The punks decided the gig was up, and took off on foot. Andy retrieved the bike and sure enough, it was Elliott's (minus its distinctive stickers).

Since then, Elliott has been buzzing and gloating about his daddy's K9-like ability to sniff out stolen goods. Andy can't help but beam a little too. Good job, daddy!