A walk down to the brook

Last winters picture but it gives you an idea.

I selfishly don't want them to grow up. We have so much fun. It must be true that when you reach a certain age you enter your second childhood.

We're trekking through the Rain Forrest,
Two five year olds and me.
Armed with walking sticks and boots,
We've climbed up every tree

We've stumbled over exposed roots,
Slashed all the nettles back.
Have been waylaid so many times,
Completely lost the track.

Broken through to blue, blue skies,
And green and grassy sloopes
That roll down to the Amazon
To throw Pooh Sticks for boats.

Needs must. We wade through rappids,
To reach the stepping stone.
Our Wellies filled with water,
How will we all get home.