And so, what better way to spend an afternoon that sledging on the machair.
(The photos are all from Catherine's mobile, so some of them aren't so clear.)
Here's DR getting the Wee Guy set up. As you can see, the parts that aren't white with snow are thick with ice. Perfect for sledging!
On his back for this one, though they soon discovered that lying on their front was the best way.
And he's off!
Then came Dad. Clearly I wasn't there, or I'd have been first on it.
Yep. I stayed home so others could have a go.
Or maybe it was to make dinner.
They say there's no fool like an old fool.
The next photo proves it.
This is my Dad. Yes, My Dad!
The kids' Grandpa.
Isn't he supposed to be by the fireside in his slippers and smoking his pipe?
Not that he smokes a pipe, but you know what I mean.
Oh, it's definite I wasn't there. I'd have been at the end of my tether.
I'd have been nagging, and pleading, and talking, and warning, and....
Oh, hold on. I may have been there, doing all that. They just weren't listening. It's been known to happen. Occasionally.
But time passes and the sun sets.
Time for them all to come home. Safely, and in one piece.
Actually, that's not strictly true about the Wee Guy, who went on one of the rides on his tummy - like the others had - only the sledge didn't stop where it had stopped for the others. It carried on and on. He had no way of stopping it. It came off the edge of a brugan (can't think of an English word.... a .. er, hump, or something), into mid-air, landed with a thud and carried on.
I'm not kidding. It was the sand dunes that stopped him in the end. He was terrified. He was also so far away, it was the van that came for him - they'd all have taken too long to walk!
He had cuts and quite a few bruises. His darling uncle - the Baby Brother - took him home. We got him into other clothes, gave him a hug (or two) and he was off again!
My Wee Soldier.
From my relating of this story, it's now clear to you all that I most certainly was not there. I wouldn't have survived that trauma.