I never knew I needed a racing track in my yard until I got one. Now I don't know how I'll ever live without it. It's really a walking path, laid by the city when this neighborhood was built, that separates our yard from our neighbor's, going the length of the properties from the street to the woods. But that's where it ends - at the woods. So it honestly goes nowhere! We've heard that there were plans to connect it to another path on the other side of the woods, but that idea has been abandoned, apparently. So now we have our own personal racking track for the boys' cozy coupes.
This morning's racing was like a scene from "Grease," where Sandra Lee stands between the cars (makes me wish I had a pair of leather pants - okay, that I looked like HER AND had a pair of leather pants) with the starting flag. The boys would push their cars to the top of the track, which has a bit of incline, and would shout random numbers together:
Then M would push off without shouting "Go," and run to the end of the track, just a little ahead of N, who couldn't catch up.
Thank you, silly city, for laying this walking path to nowhere in my backyard. It's totally worth the random confused bikers and walkers who wander back here from time to time! Maybe I should put up some kind of "FAST KIDS AT PLAY" sign (as opposed to those slow kids).