Sunday afternoon is usually my favourite time of the weekend. I do all of my running around—grocery shopping, errands, meetings with friends, and (if I'm lucky) a date—on Saturdays, so that Sunday we can stay home as a family and relax. If I'm really lucky, I might have an hour or two to myself on Sunday afternoons, while the children nap. I like to sit in my rocking chair, drink a pot of hot tea, and read a good book or knit. (God, I sound old!)
This doesn't always happen, though. Often one or more of the children will thwart my best-laid plans and refuse to nap. Yet despite their age, they seem to have internalized that Sunday afternoons are a sacred, quiet time. And sometimes their company is not unwelcome.
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