No! Don't!
Leave me!
I want to do it again, and I can do it by myself.
(Pause. Unaccustomed silence for five minutes as all talk stops to allow for maximum concentration)
There! I told you I could do it.
(Grins in triumph.)
Are you coming round tomorrow so I can do it on my real bike with pedals on?
(Pause)
You said when I could ride a real bike, you would get me some cycling gloves.
(Pause)
Can I have pink ones?
(Turns and heads off back across the tarmac again, perfectly balanced all the way)
Granddaughter - yesterday afternoon, for whom I bought a balance bike, for her 5th birthday last Friday. A couple of hours on it, and she's away, and my bribe of 'real cycling gloves when you can ride a bike properly' is being called in already. I'd say it was £30 wasted, because she got the hang of it so quickly, but for the fact that it gave me a reason to have her over and get her started cycling - long overdue, but she's not my child, and it's not for me to dictate!! She's already planning a long summer of excursions, and I'm pretty sure that by the end of this week, I will be out shopping for kiddie cycling gloves. Shame the 'pink stinks' message hasn't got through just yet, apparently.
More of a monologue than a dialogue, admittedly, but that's how most of her 'conversations' go. The other person's role consists mainly of listening and agreeing. I can't think who she gets that trait from.