This morning, my Sunday riding lesson became a family trip to the stables. Dexter sat in several puddles and ate some moss. He showed zero interest in any actual ponies *heart cracks slightly*.
The post-ponies plan was a trip to Lewes on the way home and a visit to Bill's for lunch. The boy's filthy jeans and inconvenient nap time scuppered that.
The weekend feels like it has just disappeared. We haven't really sucked the marrow out of it, but we're all exhausted. I have come to the conclusion that sometimes it is better to just hang out and make beef stew.
Due to my constant social networking, iPhone addiction and blog obsession, I do sometimes feel the pressure to live a dream-like existence - a sort of real-life version of the hazy, soft-focus, nostalgic lens of an Instagram feed. I realise however, that life and 'art' are sometimes very different.
We may not have created any memories for the boy this weekend (let's hope the moss doesn't make a reappearance), but we've all had a good rest.