When I'm 18...

We would be hard pressed to pass by a ute these days without Byron proclaiming that he’ll get one just like it when he’s older. He wants a green ute, red ute, white ute – any ute really. He wants a ute like Uncle Ross’. Today was no exception. It just so happened that there was a little (by my standards anyway) green ute parked next to our car after I picked him up from kindy. The following conversion ensued…

Byron: “That’s the ute I’m going to get mum, when I get bigger. I want a green one like that."

Me: “Really?!”

Byron: “Yep! That’s the one.” (So far, I'd say he has a running tally of about 50 utes that are 'the one')

So, we got in the car and drove off. A little bit further down the road Byron started discussing the ute again. He proclaimed… “I’m going to put paints in my ute…you know in the hole in the back…in the ute…where the big tires are…like that one (pointing to yet another ute on the highway). I’m going to put lots of paints in the back and I’m going to get boxes [I presume he’s talking about the tool boxes often seen in ute trays] in there too and I’m going to put paint brushes and more paints in there."

Me: “So, are you going to be a painter?”

Byron: “Yep! I’m going to be a painter when I turn 18. Do you think I’ll be able to drive when I’m 18? I’ll have to get my licence but before I get my licence I’ll have to sit in the front and see what it’s like to drive. Do you think I’ll get my licence when I’m 18?”

Me: ….speechless…dreading the thought he will one day be 18 with a ute and a licence!