Outdoor living in South Carolina really only becomes comfortable around mid-September. Temperatures dip, the wind seems to blow more, and it feels less humid.

And so on a day like that — the first day like that — we decide we must take advantage of it. We head to our near-neighborhood favorite, less than five miles away. Lovely views, a flat paved path for the Girl to ride on: it’s a perfect place to pass a couple of Sunday hours.

It’s a great place for L to practice on her new bike: hand brakes and gears make for a stressed, confused girl sometimes, and so a gentle, flat path is what she needs more than anything to grow accustomed to new techniques. She still tries to brake by pedaling backwards, and the overly-sensitive gears on the bike sometimes wreck havoc on her confidence, not to mention her pedaling.

Still, she manages.

As we walk, the Boy, who spends much of the time in the stroller, finally reaches a breaking point. He must get out and walk. But he doesn’t walk when he’s outside. Ever. He runs. And falls. And he has eternal scabs on both is knees to prove it.

His teetering and tottering about add a new stress element for the Girl: she decides it’s safest to ride far in front. Until she realizes she’s far in front, then she stops and waits for us.

Those breaks, though, will come fewer and farther between as she grows older. She’ll soon be seven, and that’s so difficult to believe that I think I must be making that up.