Oh how I miss the days when I could put a child or both children in the jogging stroller and briskly walk around the park. It's so much harder with three.
To get exercise these days, I put the baby in the front pack or in the stroller, and Max and Benny ride their bikes. Max without training wheels = super fast when he wants to. Benny on the trike is really cute.
The only problem, is that they run out of gas after 2 blocks. Our walk becomes a motivational seminar, with me as head cheerleader and argument-solver.
For example:
Benny slows down to look at a bug.
Me: "C'mon Benny, keep pedaling!" He slowly starts going again.
Max speeds up to the corner. Benny realizes he's been left behind, and starts furiously pedaling along and screeching "MAAAAXXX! WAAAAIIITT! Way-ay-ay-ay-tttt!"
We stop at every corner to let them take turns being the leader down the sidewalk. If not, a breakdown is inevitable with both boys hopping around me trying to get at each other and hollering, "It's MY turn to be the leader!"
(I also make them stop at every corner because I'm paranoid of accidents or kidnappings and make them stay in my sight. Yes, I am that kind of mother.
Sometimes it takes motivation to make it home if we deviate from our normal 2 or 3 block route.
They get tired or thirsty, or scold me for going the wrong way. Or they see mud/sticks/dandelion puffs/a good climbing tree. So I have to keep encouraging them along with my best rah-rah-stay-positive voice. But Benny will even just give up pedaling. If I brought the double jogger, I hook the trike on and let him hop in. If I brought the single stroller Benny plops onto the front near the wheel anyway and I slowly push the new burden along.
The worst though, is when we go past homes that belong to people we know, and the boys want to say hi. If someone isn't outside, the boys want to knock on the door but I often say no. Our walk time is at most people's dinner time, because we eat dinner so early at our house. A couple times Benny has thrown a full-on, loud, crying, sobbing, refuse-to-pedal-any-further tantrum when he can't visit his friends. Then I end up somehow dragging him and the little red trike home.
By the way I just read
this post again about a walk when Max was 3 1/2 and I kept giggling at the memory. It seems I'm never destined to be a power-walker with my children in tow!