Precocious equals...?

I'm happy to announce that my youngest child--age four-and-a half--is now able to ride a bike without training wheels!

This came about because yesterday morning, without warning, he asked me to take the training wheels off his bike. I did the usual hold the seat, hold the handbars, give a push and let go--and off he went. Today, he's able to hop on and go with nary a wobble, leaving me to chase him down the street yelling, "Don't forget to use your brakes!".

I'm not surprised, actually. He taught himself to swim last summer at the age of three (and does so quite well this summer) and he started walking at the age of nine months. (You probably heard me shrieking in horror at the time.)

Still, the bike thing is not as precocious as you might think. My other, older son started riding without training wheels as the age of three. And he--no word of a lie--just got on and went while I stood there with my mouth hanging open. This same son, age eleven, just made the All Stars Team in baseball for the twelve and thirteen-year-olds. (I'm not sure how this works; all I know is, he's on the travel team and is on what my husband calls, "The real All Star Team". I think that's man-code for "the team that will strain our budget the most". Any insight is welcome.) But the point is, that early display of athleticism continues for him and will probably continue for my youngest.

So I'm thinking...as a writer (if you are a writer), this is something you can use for characterization. How old was your protagonist when they started riding their bike? Did they do it easily or did they wobble for years before getting it right? And how did that experience shape who they are as older people?

I wonder how it will affect my sons; I'm hoping it will translate into full athletic scholarships to college. It better, because I think we won't have any money saved then. We're spending it now on gas for the travel team.