Three Wheels Good, Two Wheels Bad

After a short interlude at home where a spread of berries, fruit and fruit- and berry-based snacks were laid out and summarily rejected, I decided a bike ride was in order. Lyra was in reasonably furious disagreement, pointing meaningfully at the Birthday Trike, but we weren't going to get far fast on that thing so I was not for turning.

After a short struggle she was ensconced in the Seat of Doom and we were off to Kalinga Park, pedalling hard into the damnable sea-breeze headwind that blows up the Kedron Brook, but ten minutes later (roughly) we were there, ambling about, doing the usual playground thing.

Lyra made friends with a little boy who insisted that his name was Poo-poo. He thought this hilariously funny, and I was forming the impression that this apparent two-year-old had a tremendously advanced sense of humour until I asked him how old he was - he was apparently poo-poo years old - and then caught a whiff of the inspiration of his never-gets-tired little joke.

Lyra had a sing-song after her bottle of milky, which was nice... for her.

How the days fly by.

Anyway the intention obviously was to entertain, inform, and exhaust. And with a three-hour nap following shortly after our return (tail-wind this time) I feel I ticked all three boxes.