"I can't possibly take another step" you exclaim while dragging your feet across the sidewalk as if it were quicksand pulling you down. "We've been walking for miles!" You protest. In reality, you have walked about 50 yards but it has taken 10 minutes because of your consistent complaining. That is when you see the second best image (The first being new presents under the christmas tree) in your life: Dad is bent over crouching, signaling that He will give you a piggyback.
Your legs instantly feel refreshed as you run full speed and jump into Dad's back and link your arms around his neck. "Oooooffffff" Dad breathes out for his last normal breath for the next 20 minutes. Dad lurches you higher up his back for support and to stop you from choking him. That's when you get the view.
You can see EVERYTHING. Mountain tops have nothing on you. You see the cotton candy vendor across the park. You see poor little kids having to hold their moms hands as they walk. You see Dad's bald spot. There's the set of seagulls all in a bunch again that you just chased away. (Time to teach them another lesson). This is the best feeling in the world.
Meanwhile, Dad is feeling the backsweat form, the constant gasping for air due to your strangling arms, and kicking into his love handles (your legs have fallen asleep so they dangle and kick furiously). Dad is willing to do this for you though because Dad understands how vital it is to get to the destination. It validates Dad as a navigator as well as proving to mom that He doesn't need to go to the gym because He's still got it.
Sadly, you reach the destination and Dad must set you down. "No! Just a little bit longer!" You yell as you're torn from Dad's back. Dad pulls out his Neosporin from the fannypack to address the scratches you left on his neck. Your legs feel like Jell-O and it seems you forgot how to walk. You look up to Dad with those puppydog eyes as he is rubbing his shoulders. Dad looks down and can't resist. "Okay, hop back on." Life is good again.