The Bigger the Boys ...

I always knew the meaning of the old saying "The bigger the boys, the bigger the toys."

I knew it when, as a young girl, my father had a constant array of trucks, big and small.

And tractors.

And skid loaders.

I knew it when my Uncle Denny would tell stories of his motocross racing days and later hear the roar of his Harley.

I knew it when my brother got his first Jeep ... in high school.

I knew it when I went to college and my boyfriend at the time (now my husband) came home with a boat hitched to his truck.

And later a Jeep of his own.

And later another Jeep.

So, on that fateful day, when I welcomed my son into the world, I was under no illusions that my son wouldn't follow in the footsteps of those before him.

I just figured I had a good 16 or 17 years to prepare.

Not so.

Now that the little man is 5, his graduation into Kindergarten has not only meant no more daily naps, more responsibility and bigger jeans, but it also means bigger toys.

And I'm not talking about a bike without training wheels.

Enter Papa and Daddy, who conspired to welcome the little man into the "bigger toys" brotherhood.

Courtesy of a camouflage ATV sized just right for a certain little big boy.

Fortunately, Daddy and Papa prepared for Mama. They promptly explained how you could set it so it only went a certain speed, that it had a kill switch and for added safety, handed me a small keychain with a remote kill switch so that Mama could kill the engine on anything too much fun.

But by that time, the little man was off.

With Papa riding on the back.

And Daddy impatiently waiting for his turn.