Out of the Mouths of Babes…

Chris and I were cycling back from the ford this morning. I was cycling ahead of him, as usual, because he thinks that if he goes first he will forget himself (or me) and leave me behind in a cloud of dust. Ha!

We were at the Arch end of the Newhay path and up ahead, at the waterfall end and in the sunshine, were two youngish looking men in conversation. As I drew closer, I could see that one of the men had a baby in his arms; the man had his back towards me and the baby was looking at me over his father’s shoulder. The cherubic curly-haired tot of about eighteen months old appeared to be much more interested in the approaching cyclists than the conversation going on between the men.

I thought I would make it a bit more interesting still for the child by putting on a spurt.

“Just passing by,” I announced as I sped past.

“Mum,” called out the startled babe as I whooshed by.

Chris was coming up the rear (and he’s a tad deaf, as you may know) so I wasn’t sure if he had heard the little chap call out.

“That was sweet,” I called behind me for the benefit of all and sundry. I couldn’t turn around because I might have fallen over – the track is narrow and uneven.

A few moments later Chris had nearly caught me up.

“Did you hear the baby call me Mum?” I asked.

Chris mumbled something, which suggested to me that he hadn’t actually heard.

“I’m so glad he didn’t call me Gran!” I laughed.

“Oh yes,” Chris laughed with me.

Now I’m not entirely convinced that my husband heard but when he reads this he will understand why I was so happy as I charged off on the Newhay path. Mind you, we’re always happy when we’re out on our bikes in the sunshine.

And here are few more photographs of the Dawlish countryside….