Most weekends Dad and I split the teams in an effort to get more work done in less time.
That's the theory at least.
But over breakfast this morning, we decided it would be a lovely 'Family-Sunday' if we all saddled up and rode out together to bring in a paddock of breeders.
Alas, my old steed didn't pass the vet-check and was relegated to stay in the long yard.
Deflated I returned home, promptly made a coffee, forgot my disappointment, put my feet up and read a couple of chapters of a new book that arrived in the mail this week. Keeping one eye towards the yards, at the first sign of movement I donned hat and boots and high-tailed it, ran some bulls through the crush, and when my team turned up, wiped my brow and looked decidedly busy. I'm pretty sure they're onto me though, as I'd only dipped four when they arrived.
We drafted off what we needed and the junior team tailed the remainder back to their paddock.
After dinner and some close paddocks in and out, I sighted this posse heading for the homestead.
At first I thought there were only four...
a Dad and his girls.
But closer inspection revealed another...
a stripling, on a small and weedy beast,
lagging a little behind, cap jauntily askew (can't find me helmet Mum), not quite included in the pack...
Arm raised, either about to try to ride time, crack an imaginary whip or possibly trying to be heard.
Oblivious to his cry for ..... something, they rode on.
"Please Sir, I really need to ... "
Dads and their girls.
They're tough on my boy!
It's alright baby, Mummy's here! Would you like a cordial?