When Alex was just six weeks old, he was diagnosed with Williams syndrome. Like many parents in similar situations, we turned to resources like the Williams Syndrome Association website, seeking information and understanding. While we found valuable insights, much of it focused on limitations – things Alex might not be able to do. However, from the beginning, we knew Alex was unique. We refused to be bound by typical expectations and were determined to discover his full potential, whatever that might be. His journey, especially his path to riding a bike – what we affectionately called his “Frozen Bike” challenge, representing the initial hurdle – taught us all invaluable lessons about perseverance and the power of positive reinforcement.
Alex reached the milestone of walking at the age of two, a testament to his determination and the support of physical therapy. He then progressed to a tricycle and eventually a bike with training wheels. Bike rides were a cherished family activity, and as Alex approached the end of kindergarten, we knew it was time for him to join in the fun. Teaching a seven-year-old to ride a bike is a task in itself, but we were ready to embrace this as our summer project, tackling the “frozen bike” challenge head-on.
Our first step was finding the right bike for Alex – one he could comfortably sit on with his feet firmly planted on the ground for balance and control. Next, we chose a wide-open park, a safe space free from obstacles where he could learn without fear of collisions. Initially, Alex mastered scooting, pushing the bike along with his feet, building confidence and familiarity. Then came the bigger challenge: pedaling and maintaining balance. Dad patiently ran alongside, providing support and preventing falls through countless attempts. Gradually, Dad’s grip lessened, and with a strong push to start, Alex was pedaling independently!
Of course, there were falls. And yes, there were moments of discouragement when Alex wanted to give up. But consistent practice and a powerful motivator kept him going. We reminded him of the joy of riding to friends’ houses, especially to see a special little girl down the street. We painted a picture of him joining his older brother and us on neighborhood bike adventures. But perhaps the most effective incentive was the promise of a frozen coke after every 20 minutes of practice. Alex loved frozen cokes. And as any parent knows, a frosty treat is the perfect remedy for scraped knees and bruised spirits.
So, park visits and frozen coke rewards became our daily routine. Even when frustration surfaced, Alex would often apologize afterward, saying, “I’m so sorry Mom and Dad. I know you are doing what’s best.” Once pedaling was mastered, we moved on to stopping. Initially, Alex’s method involved simply falling off the bike or dragging his feet, wearing holes in his shoes. We’d playfully remind him, “Alex, you’re not Fred Flintstone – use your bike brakes!” Learning to use the reverse pedal brakes took time and, you guessed it, more frozen cokes. Eventually, he got the hang of it.
The final hurdle was starting independently. Dad wouldn’t always be there to provide a push start. This required further practice and, naturally, more frozen cokes. Alex initially adopted the “rolling start,” using his feet to gain momentum before engaging the pedals. But with persistence, he learned to balance, push off with the pedals, and start moving on his own. The total frozen coke count for that summer? Maybe fifty, maybe more. Each “frozen bike” milestone deserved a celebratory frozen treat!
Now, Alex is thirteen. We’ve enjoyed countless bike rides together, exploring our community. We even dream of a future bike tour. Alex continuously amazes us with his daily achievements. We no longer focus on what he can’t do, but rather ensure he has opportunities to pursue activities he enjoys. He’s played soccer, performed solos on stage, successfully auditioned for his junior high school show choir, and volunteers extensively through our church, among many other things. Recently, during a car ride, Alex turned to me and said, “I have a pretty good life.” When I asked why, he replied, “I’m doing well in school. I’m in the talent show and show choir. I help people. I think it is pretty good.” Who could argue with that? His “frozen bike” journey was just the beginning of unlocking a life full of potential.
Michelle Self & Bill Bentley
