My mum rang up yesterday afternoon, just as I was getting Baby and myself ready for a last-ditch-attempt-at-afternoon-nap buggy ride into town and back. She was hoping we'd be free to go visit my dad.
It's pretty hard to get the whole family together for a trip to the cemetary, because it has to be scheduled in with my almost-2-year-old niece's long afternoon nap, Baby's erratic feeding and napping timetable, my brother's workload, my sister-out-law's need for family time and the boy's need to sleep like a dead thing on weekend mornings.
I put her off the idea of doing it that afternoon; as far as I was concerned it was way more important to a) put Baby to sleep, b) get out of the house while it was still sunny and c) buy a blender so I can stop trying to make pea puree with a sieve and a wooden spoon. So I promised we'd be available the next morning.
We weren't to know that the following day would bring heavy rain and dark clouds; my mum is superstitious enough that she won't go near a graveyard unless it's bright daylight, warm and calm.
So once more this weekend, our afternoon highlight was listening to Baby gurgling, shrieking, squealing and occasionally protesting, during her afternoon nap time. A couple of hours later we acknowledged Baby's superior stamina, and the boy has taken her out for a drive to see the ducks at the Botanic Gardens.