TWO WHEELS

The youngest in the family gets some wheels!

“Everyone in my family has a bike,” says the young narrator. “But I don’t.” Dad, a bike enthusiast, has several, including a recumbent one (“If he gets too tired, he even has a bike he can lie down on and take a nap”). When the family goes out cycling together, the narrator has always ridden in a baby seat on Dad’s bike—until now. “I want a bike of my own!” says the child. So Dad gives the little one a hand-me-down tricycle. “It has one…two…three wheels,” observes the protagonist. “I ride it in the yard.” Later, Dad provides a two-wheel, pedal-less balance bike. Our hero practices riding “down the yard…between the bushes…around the cat…and a little bit over the flowers.” When Dad presents a bright red bike with training wheels, “It’s the most beautiful bike I’ve ever seen.” Dad explains that “the little wheels are just until you get the hang of it.” When it’s time to take the training wheels off, the little one experiences the heart-thumping anticipation, exhilaration, and surprise of a solo ride. This straightforward, at times humorous narrative deftly captures a young child’s viewpoint, brought to life by gorgeously textured, collagelike images. This is an engaging and relatable look at how skills are acquired through practice; laudably, Gibb makes clear that learning to ride a bike doesn’t happen overnight. The family is brown-skinned, and everyone wears a helmet while riding.

Simple, encouraging, and charming.