Three boys and a funeral

I'd been dreading it all week. ANM's Great Aunt concluded her earthly journey last weekend and her funeral was scheduled for today. Aaargh, what do do with the kids... to take or not to take...

I think that we should not shield our kiddies from death and mourning, but on the other hand, should I risk taking Little C, the inquisitive 3.5 year old with the attention span of a blowfly? Should I pull Mr T out of school for the afternoon to farewell a woman he's met only once? There was no question that Little V would come with us because at 4 months old he tags along wherever I go, although I was nervous that he'd squawk through the whole thing. ANM was to be a pall bearer so I knew I'd be wrangling alone for at least some of the time.

Late last night we made the decision to take all three kids with us to the funeral. After the rigmarole of finding (and washing and ironing) suitable attire, getting us all to the church, and someone crashing into our parked car as I was getting the kids out*, my boys behaved like a dream. We sat right up the back... just in case. They were the only kids there. Actually, I think besides our kids ANM and I were the youngest people there...

A slurpy-sounding breastfeed, some Little V vomit and a few motorised-sounding pants explosions didn't appear to offend the nearby attendees. All they noticed were V's big smiles. Little C whispered his questions about the mysterious box and was lucky enough to find a Lego helmet in the pocket of his jacket to play with. Mr T was his usual teenage self and just sat there quietly, letting me pass him the spew rag when my hands were full.

Afterwards, at the afternoon tea in the hall next door many people complimented us on our lovely, well-behaved kids and said how nice it was to have some young people at the funeral.

Phew!

*The family was unhurt and the car relatively unscathed. The driver DIDN'T EVEN STOP, grrr.