Sunday afternoon one of Logan's friends came over to play for a few hours.
He's a great kid and Logan was looking forward to it, but I was a little concerned when he showed up on a mountain bike.
The two boys played for a while and had a great time, then Logan's friend asked if they could go for a bike ride in the back of the bush. The last time he was here, I took Logan and a few other friends on a short hike to a place we call Salt Lake City, a strange lake surrounded by very white sand in the middle of the forest. It's about a 30 minute walk and my boys love to go there.
Logan wanted to leave and his friend loved the idea, but I couldn't let go of it on my own so I pumped up the tires on our motorcycles and took a ride.
It wasn't a long drive, no more than 12 minutes, but it's a bumpy, hilly road and I soon regretted it.
Instead of enjoying the exercise on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, I cursed the poorly fitting helmet, played with the gears, and noticed that my bottom kept getting worse.
Now, two days later, I'm still sore, grimacing, and moaning every time I switch positions in my chair. It's very uncomfortable and I started to really regret agreeing to the ride.
But then when I think about it, I realize that I don't regret it.
Sure, I feel uncomfortable now and was a little uncomfortable that day, but my son and his mate had a great time.
You were in the beautiful Australian bush, laughing, hanging out and staying fit and healthy.
So I have a choice.
I can complain and whine and secretly sabotage the bicycles so that they can never be used again.
Or I can be grateful for the opportunity to partake in their fun and laugh at my own pain.
My bottom might wish I said no, but I'm glad I said yes.
So:
Laden …
