Lincoln & Rosie

It was a warm afternoon, and the driveway was alive with the sound of tiny wheels skimming the pavement. Lincoln, just four years old and full of superhero energy, had donned his favorite Batman outfit for the day. Complete with a black cape fluttering dramatically behind him, he zoomed down the driveway on his tiny scooter.

Trailing close behind him was Rosie, the family’s feisty little Jack Russell Terrier. But Rosie wasn’t content to simply watch the Dark Knight in action—she had her own mission: capturing the cape that swished enticingly before her.

“Aunt Sara, watch me!” Lincoln called, his voice high with excitement as he pushed himself forward, his cape billowing behind him like a proper superhero.

“I’m watching ” I called back from the porch, already trying to suppress a laugh.

Rosie, on the other hand, had no time for spectators. Her tiny legs churned furiously as she chased Lincoln down the sloping driveway. She leapt at the cape, her little teeth catching the edge just enough to tug it slightly.

Lincoln wobbled on the scooter but stayed upright, turning back to shout, “No, Rosie! You’re ruining it!”

But Rosie was undeterred, tugging harder with playful growls. Every time Lincoln pushed off to escape, she bounded after him, her tail wagging like she was having the time of her life.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore—I started laughing so hard I had to hold my sides. The sight of Batman Lincoln, valiantly scootering away while Rosie pursued him with relentless energy, was just too much.

Lincoln came to a stop at the bottom of the driveway, turning back to me with a very serious expression for a four-year-old. His little chest puffed out in indignation, and he dramatically pointed at me. “Aunt Sara, it’s NOT funny!”

I wiped a tear of laughter from my eye, trying to compose myself. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got to admit, you and Rosie are quite the team.”

“We’re NOT a team!” Lincoln insisted, stomping his foot for emphasis. “I’m Batman, and she’s being a bad guy!”

At that very moment, Rosie managed to grab hold of the cape again, tugging it loose. Lincoln gasped in horror as his superhero image was compromised. “Rosie! No!” he cried, scooping up the cape and fixing it back onto his shoulders.

With all the dignity a four-year-old in a Batman costume could muster, Lincoln pushed his scooter back toward me, with Rosie still prancing excitedly behind him. “You’ve got to stop laughing, Aunt Sara,” he said, looking up at me with wide, imploring eyes.

I bit my lip, nodding solemnly. “You’re absolutely right, Lincoln. I’ll be more serious.”

He studied me for a moment, as if deciding whether to believe me, then turned his attention back to Rosie. “And you,” he said, crouching down to point a finger at the dog, “you need to stop biting my cape, okay?”

Rosie, of course, just wagged her tail and licked his face. Lincoln sighed dramatically, but even he couldn’t resist a giggle. “Fine, you can be my sidekick,” he said, standing up and adjusting his cape.

“Rosie the Sidekick,” I said, clapping my hands. “I love it!”

Lincoln smiled, finally conceding to the fun of it all. With Rosie now trotting happily beside him, he climbed back onto his scooter, ready to save the day—or at least the driveway.