So. When I was a kid we had a go kart, which very occasionally we would ride down Connor Road at breakneck speeds while someone waited at the bottom to make sure that no cars would hit the riders. I have very fond memories of being held tightly between Jared's knees on multiple occasions as we flew down the road. It was the absolute best. You'd use the rope to steer from the cross bar and eventually pull to go one way at the bottom of the hill. Fun times.
I feel like my kids miss out on a lot of that by being city kids, but to my absolute delight, a few months back, I found a wooden crashed and abandoned at the bottom of Peppa Pig Hill (the top end of Thomby Avenue, the street between the new house and our current house.) with one wheel broken and one missing. We drove past it for at least two weeks (I said it was to make sure no one claimed it, but let's be honest, it was cause I kept forgetting to go back when it was dark so no one could see me!) before I actually stopped and loaded it into the back of my car (grateful once again for the Outlander!) and handed it off to Grandad Neil for repairs.
My dad is the flipping best. Next time we were up in Clackline, it was set and ready to roll. Fully repaired and then some... Maddie was out and doing runs before I could properly explain to her how to do it. Oh for a life in the country! It's not my turn as an adult yet, but one day!
And this dude? Ladybug boots stolen from Nannas laundry, new (to him, from the opshop, but still actually brand new!) lunchbag (that we are calling "my lunchbox!") in hand, filled with plastic fruit and vegetables, also from the opshop.
What a life.
What a life.
























