Shark boots
Newsletter #12
Why don’t they make leather boots with sharks on them for grown-ups? Perhaps because no one would buy them, but in a toddler size 6 they look great.
This morning I took Lou, our one - almost two - year old up to the forest. It was a bit gloomy down in the city when we left, but the forest sits up in the hills not far away, and the sun was out as we pulled into the car park. He donned his shark boots, ready for our morning expedition.
Three minutes into our ‘walk’ he asked for a snack. “NACK NACK”. I had come unusually prepared with a lunch book full of things, and negotiated with him that we’d open it when we got to a little wooden shelter about 100m away. We got there, eventually, and he shoved half jam sandwich into his mouth, minus a load of jam which remained on his fingers.
Accompanying us on our adventure was a small pink ball, about tennis ball sized, but made of rubber and super bouncy. His relationship with this ball is wonderful. It comes everywhere with us. That said, despite his affection for it, he isn’t afraid to lob it as far as he can, when he can. He can’t throw far, but its bounciness means he can get it far enough away to find it funny. “DADA RUN” he shouts as the chucks it through one of the shelter’s windows, and into the field of brambles outside. I oblige, repeatedly.
He hears a bird call, but for whatever reason mistakes it for a doorbell. “DING” he echoes. He does this a few times, but stops when I ask him where the door is. He’s worked it out, it can’t be a door. Another bird makes a call, this time a different sound, and I think he’s connected the two things together as being related. The dinging stops for now and he runs out of the shelter and onto a small path.
At the top of this path is a small incline, and I mean small. It’s probably about a metre long, but steep enough for a 1 year old to make him pause. “READY?” he shouts. Oh god, what’s he about to do. “READY?!” he repeats, and launches himself down the tiny slope, tripping and falling into the brambles. He doesn’t cry, though, instead he laughs, which is really cool. He picks himself up and climbs back the top. “READY?!” he continues, and successfully makes his way down it this time, and along the path into the woods.
This wasn’t the last time he fell over. There were tree roots galore sticking out the ground around the shelter. “WOBBLE” he would mumble after after fall. In between the tumbles he amused himself with the thousands of sticks and pinecones on the floor, and giggled as we hid from each other behind the trees, none quite big enough to hide me completely, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I notice the sun has disappeared behind the haze which must have caught up with us, and the wind’s picking up a bit. It feels like rain might be on its way, but it’s almost nap time, maybe he’ll fall asleep in the car on the way home? I’d rather he didn’t, but it’s ok if he does. We’ve been here almost two hours.
I give him a two minute warning, which he acknowledges, but after which he just runs off in the wrong direction, still giggling away. He’s so happy here. He roars at me, noticing his echo in the trees across the clearing. “ROARRRRR!!” He does it again, and again. There’s no chance we’re leaving in two minutes. I roar too, it is quite fun.
Ten minutes later he’s restrained in the buggy and we make our way back to the car, all of about 200m away.
He did fall asleep in the car, about four minutes into our 15 minute drive home, and stayed asleep as I transferred him up to bed. He’s there now, still holding his pink ball, as I write this.
Below are some of the pictures I took of our morning. I hope you enjoy piecing together the words to the images.
Thank you, Lou
25 September 2026
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