Across the road from us is a cemetery that dates back to the mid-1800s and this means that it is full — full of large sandstone and granite headstones lined-up, reminiscent of the teeth of a respectable old lady from the same era.  There is mossy grass between the rows and large trees punctuated by the odd rhododendron.

Now picture your local park.  Large expanses of green grass with a play area in the corner, right?  A play area that gives a nod to toddlers by having one toddler-sized slide and two — maybe three — toddler swings, but the rest of it geared towards the older child.  At least mine is.

My girls love the park swings…for about 15 minutes.  They love the toddler slide…for about 10 minutes.  Then they look around for something else and inevitably careen towards the broad path used by cyclists and dog walkers, which is fine when both hubby and I are with the girls — one parent for each toddler.  However, we mostly go to the park during the week when I am not working and hubby is.  When there, the girls invariably head-off in different directions, which means that if I am saving one from stepping in front of a cyclist, then I am not saving the other from walking into the path of an oncoming swing.

Which brings us to the cemetery.

The girls will happily spend a couple of hours toddling around, picking up sticks, decimating the daisies (this kind, not this kind), hiding behind monuments and headstones, standing or sitting on top of granite grave dividers, and swinging off the wrought iron.  There is so much more scope for the imagination (yes, that’s on purpose) in a graveyard than in the park, and my girls seem to agree.