When you’re a little kid, a family trip out to the big woods is always full of surprises.
So you wrap up warm, indulge in some very fetching striped knitwear and show the grown ups how to have a ton of fun.
Big hills are just the place for fast wheels and little boots to speed you on your way.
And, thankfully, stopping just short of the photographer, who was admittedly sitting in the middle of the track. But look at that cheeky grin. All is forgiven.
When mini McQueen dismounts from his motorbike, he stay just a while, staring into that big black lens, wondering what all the fuss is about.
Because he has rugged terrain to conquer, little tree stumps to climb.
And a Mum, waiting for him to come running to her and plant a big kiss. It’s a fine balance to strike – just adventurous enough, but always making sure Mum isn’t too far away when a cuddle is called for.
It’s not just adventure he’s after, he’s learning too. Everything he sees, he points out, investigates. So when he finds real, BIG tyre tracks in the sand, that is something to get properly excited about.
You’ve raced down hills, climbed tree (stumps), discovered wildlife and tyre tracks. Next stop – walking the beam. With, of course, a little light help from Mum and Dad.
When he screams with delight, it’s an infectious sound. Everyone joins in the giggles.
All that balancing is hard work. Time to take a little break and let all that cute out into the camera.
He loves planes. Just the sound of them was a promise of something wonderful to watch. He would look for them in the cloudy sky above and watch for the trails they left behind.
Luckily, Dad had a treat tucked away in his pocket.
Do you remember those polystyrene planes? They never lasted long in our house before one of the Griffin kids, rushing to grab it first, would crush the wing or break the end of it. But that didn’t stop it being amazing fun while it lasted.
All great pilots have to start somewhere. This one started in the woods, with his Mum and Dad cheering him on, and his own sheer delight at launching that airplane up into the sky, eyes squeezed shut, no idea where it would land.
Then it’s time to go home. You grab teddy for one last dash around the tall trees, laughing all the way, before being bundled up into Dad’s arms.
Sometimes I think that a Dad is the best form of transport. Even better than wheels or wings.