It is the half term holiday and I look in despair at the
kid paraphernalia bursting out of our car; there are several pairs of muddy wellies,
a bag of emergency spare clothes, extra coats, a couple of odd socks, half
eaten apples, crisp packets, lego bits, baby wipes, colouring books, matchbox
cars, a teddy, a pogo stick?!, tennis ball, small football, helmets, not to
mention the various vehicles the kids seem to need to travel with. I haven’t
even begun to load up for the day.
I open the boot of the car, which is parked on our
slightly sloping driveway, and have to brace myself to catch a bicycle as it
falls out on top of me, then just helplessly watch as I miss my other catch and
a football speeds down the hill. I drop the bike and leg it down the road,
overtaking the ball and stopping its accident inducing progress into the main
road at the bottom. I then try and cram everything back in the car, observing
as I do so the number of wheels I seem to have here.
There is a buggy, that is 4 wheels, or technically 8 as
the stroller style wheel is made up of two. There is Rachel’s bike, 2 wheels,
her scooter, 3 wheels, 3 other scooters, that’s another 6 wheels, and Emilia’s
roller blades, 8 wheels. That is a ridiculous 27 wheels, all shoved inside the car,
not even including the car’s own four wheels, spare tyre and steering wheel.
The silly thing is, we don’t even need all these modes of
transport in here. We’re going to the zoo!
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