We were already short one ringer, with Wallace having to be left behind, suffering a particularly nasty belly bug. Steel is not enjoying his Christmas present at all. An electric collar.
The older girls believe they're big enough now to dispense with the helmets. They could be right. I'm just not quite ready yet for this step.
The helmets provide such little sun protection though and are such heavy, hot contraptions, making an already hot, sweaty job even moreso.
Fred the wonderdog and I were relegated to the bike. Fully expecting to be riding, I'd packed my dinky little camera in my pocket and was hopeful of some horseback action shots.
Instead, Fred and I swept the back reaches of the paddock, sending cattle into the awaiting horsemen.
We drafted cattle late into the afternoon and made an early start on the branding next morning.
While the rest of us enjoyed tea and toast before setting out, Sally chose not to, and firmly believed her stomach was digesting itself by the time we'd finished branding and headed back for a cook-up.
It's a hot, tough job for a kid.
Made worse by your sisters talking incessantly about going to the beach for a holiday.
Never mind Sal. I'm sure they'll miss us terribly.