Let’s climb a mountain, he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

The guinea fowl parked up outside our bedroom window and squabbled about something that could only be resolved with much noise, posturing and fluffing – much like a feathered version of backstage at Australian fashion week.

I opened my eyes.  Thought about coffee. Remembered we didn’t have any milk.

Snuck into the ensuite. Sniffed a worn bra. Threw on some pants and crept to the car.

I was back with milk and the papers before the rest of the house woke.

The kids appeared as I was making the coffee, but then by some Christmas miracle played happily in the dining room.

I slipped into bed with Bearhands, handed him a paper and said ….

 “Let’s pretend we don’t have kids”.

I was on my third sip of coffee and sixth page of the paper when he turned to me …..

Let’s climb a mountain, he said.

It’ll be fun, he said.

And so we did.  We left the papers, fed and dressed the kids and drove to Mt Beerburrum.

The kids started the track well.  The Big Sister powered ahead and by the first third of the walk.  I was grateful I’m only trying to keep up with short stuff’s three-year-old legs.

I promised the Little Sister that if she made it to the top I would make her pancakes for second breakfast when we got home.  She set off.

By halfway it became evident that it was me and not the short-legged one holding up the show.

We reached the top.  Bearhands and the kids explored the look out and snacked on pieces of Grandma’s chocolate date slice.

I sucked lungfuls of air and attempted to hear their conversation over the pounding of blood in my ears.

The return leg was no faster.  My dubious knees and unreliable ankles made for a cautious decent.  The crew were soon out in front.

Repeated warnings not to run downhill were shouted. Such is the vigour of youth.

There are rewards for being slow though.

If I’d been faster I’d have missed this superb fairy wren.  He was putting on an avian version of Thunder Downunder for an appreciative female.  He didn’t make as much noise as the guinea fowls, but he did just as much fluffing and preening.  It was working, I could see the “Let’s pretend we don’t have children” look in her eye.

We made it home eventually.  I made the kids two pancakes each.

Come night, when it was time to climb into bed, those papers were still waiting there unread.

The walk to the top of Mt Beerburrum is a 700m Class 4 paved track.  700m doesn’t sound that bad until you realise its 280m high.  The sign says a return trip should take an hour.  We did it in 1 hour and five minutes, with a little recovery session picnic at the top.

what did you get up to yesterday?