My son, my darling gorgeous 11-month old son, is not an afternoon person. As we experience the two-naps-a-day to one-nap-a-day transition, 3pm has become a scary hour. Does he need a nap? Does he need a cracker? (Everything can be fixed with a cracker, I'm fairly certain of this fact.) Does he want to listen to some music? Watch TV? Yes? No?
When I think I'm not going to survive til 5.30pm I throw Marley in the push chair and escape to a nearby playground. My intrepid wanderer explores high and low, over and under, squealing with delight at the pantone plastic playland. Muddy knees and eating autumn leaves seems to be his 3pm fix, and just as serendipity would have it I stumble upon my sanity in the fresh air and my happiness in his beaming grin. P.S. don't you just want to blow raspberries on that tummy?