The party this weekend was great. Lots of people turned up for lunch, we had a bouncy castle for the children (big and small - even a couple of my aunts, one of whom is a grandmother and the other a great-grandmother, went on it), there was a 60 inch television screen on which to watch England win the rugby, we had a curry together in the evening while watching the France-New Zealand match, then several of us were staying in the same hotel and we had a nightcap in the hotel bar and breakfast together this morning. My parents, sister and her family and New Man and I went to Mass together and then to a sports bar for lunch, where we watched South Africa beat Fiji before going our separate ways home.
I printed off messages from other members of the family who couldn't be with us and some family photos, and a couple of my aunts also brought photos of my grandmother to go on the walls with them. We drank to Granny's memory, many stories about her were exchanged, and there was a lot of laughter and fun.
This morning, my niece went to get into the car and found that her car seat was missing.
"Daddy, where's my seat?" she asked.
Her father explained that one of my aunts had travelled home from the party in the car last night (my nieces were already in bed back at the hotel, with my mother). He said, "I had to move your seat, because Great-Aunt X was sitting there."
My niece thought for a while about the implications of her seat being moved. Usually, there are only two reasons for this to happen - if it has been put in someone else's car so she can travel with them, or if the cover needs to be cleaned. She knew she hadn't been travelling with anyone else since arriving at the party.
Light dawned, and she asked in her piercing 3-year-old voice: "Did she wee in it?"