No Bikes in February in Buffalo

I come from a place where winters look like this:



I now live in a place where winters look like this.

Sammy refuses to accept/doesn't understand/thinks I the answer will change when I repeatedly tell him that he cannot bring his bike to my mom's house on this trip. He has even told her, after I've told him no, that he is bringing his bike when we come next time. He continues to look me right in the face and say things like, "we really can't forget our bikes when we go to Gramma's next time" and "Gramma will really like it when we have our bikes at her house."

I am hoping that he'll be sleepy enough when we leave at dark early o'clock to forget about it until Albany or so.