I'm giving the baby boy pushchair wheelies and he's gurgling away and the girlies are racing ahead on their bikes and the sun's reflecting off the reservoir and isn't this all top family fun with just Dad and the kids?
Ahead lies a stretch of squishy mud.
I carry Laura then squelch back and carry Daisy then squelch back and carry both bikes then squelch back and drag the pushchair backwards with the baby boy still gurgling and my boots and ankles are caked.
Daisy says she's tired of biking. Laura agrees.
I balance Daisy's bike complete with stabilisers on one pushchair handle and hang the saddle of Laura's bike on the other and we all have a drink and a biscuit and the girlies are OK to walk 'cos this next bit is downhill.
Our path seems to double back around a swampy inlet.
It's fast approaching the baby boy's tea-time and I've brought no baby food and it smells like he needs a change and we're at best halfway round and the car's a distant spot on the opposite shore and the girlies want to know how much further and Daisy needs a wee and the light's going and we're all out of juice.
Kids, I say, I need to call Mum.
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