While cutting the grass in the back garden last night, the children made their way out into the garden to accompany me - to watch, to get in the way, and to shout “watch this Dad” as they dangled upside down in the climbing frame.
During one particularly spirited charge between the swings and the climbing frame (which was apparently a fire engine), Miss Eight fell flat on her face. Miss Seven, in hot pursuit (or as hot a pursuit as you can mount in bright pink wellies) stopped, pointed, and exploded in laughter.
She tried to climb up the climbing frame, but gave up - instead pointing at her sister, and exploding in even more raucous laughter. I looked across the garden just in time too see her suddenly stop laughing, look worried, and run towards the house with a hand between her legs.
… and then I burst out laughing, and had to stop the mower until I composed myself.
A few moments later while passing the house, Miss Seven re-emerged, and ran past on her way to the fire. “You ok?”
“Yep”.