Post haste

Work.

Then a fast march to our letter box at the end of the day to ‘post’ CarbBoy’s birthday card.

He recently has become militant in his opposition to giving birthday cards when you’re in a room with the person. Cards are, apparently for posting because you’re not going to to see the person. I kind of get what he means, but I still wanted him to have a card from me. So I put it in the letterbox, which CarbBoy empties every evening on his way home.

Here’s the view looking up from the way back home. Down the track where he learned to ride a bike.