Trumping the parents

On the way home with Evan one day, he sighed as he looked out the window.

I asked him why.

He told me that he wished he could sit on the back of a truck.

I asked him why again.

He said it looked like good fun.

True that.

The next day was a school holiday. Jordan and he went with our neighbour on a hike. The thing with taking kids on walks is that we always have to factor in energy for the walk back. By the time the twins and their friends made it to the half way mark of the Tree Top Walk, they were winded and whined about having to double back.

One of the mums with them enterprisingly stopped a truck and asked if he could give the 5 kids and 3 adults a lift back out to the carpark.

The driver agreed

And the scrambling aboard the truck, sitting on the bed of the truck and the wind matting their hair rapidly became the highlight of their morning adventure.

Evan could not stop talking about it. He hitchhiked, he said. He sat in the back of the truck. And it was windy. They even had chairs with legs sawn off so that you didn't have to sit on the ground of the truck. On and on he went.

Was it safe? Probably not. After all, the guy could have been an axe murderer or a serial killer. The kids had no restraints, someone could have fallen out the back of the truck.

But the point is they didn't and Evan can now cross this off his bucket list. He can also revel in the fact that he's done something Mommy hasn't ever done and Papa possibly only did in the army.

So, in short, he's trumped us in terms of coolness here.