It was unseasonably warm for a mid september morning. The sun was gently warming up the trees and nature was starting to sing the morning chorus.
It was a moment of rareness as I walked to the woods with only one child beside me. One still rested at home in bed whilst the other one sat glued to Peppa Pig whilst her father tidied up.
My son chatted ten to the dozen, relishing the time away from his siblings, ahead of us the dog darted in and out of trees, flying through mud pools and dancing through sun drenched spots.
“Shall we be pirates?” He cried as he slashed an imaginary blade through the air. I drew myself up to Captain Hooks size and joined him charging through grass fighting Peter Pan and the lost boys. We paused only to pluck blackberries from the brambles taking care not to catch ourselves on thorns.
Day to day stresses were forgotten in the woods, I saw the world as a six year old boy does and it was splendid.
“Shall we pretend the blackberries are gold and pick hundreds so we are rich?” I asked my little boy.
He clutched my hand;
“You are rich already mummy,”
“Yes, because you’ve got me…”