Mother's Day with La and her Sunday bid for freedom

The scene was set for a perfect Mother's Day yesterday - La slept in till 9am, La's Dad had noted a recent survey of mothers which came up with the not-rocket-sciency discovery that all Mums really want on the day is a lie on and a homemade card.

  When the cheery morning summons came from La, who physically drags her Dad out of bed if he's not on his feet before she reaches the bedside, he must have hopped out of the backdoor in his dressing gown pretty sharpish because a card was waiting for me when I emerged, not long after. 
  Now Sundays are a challenge for La at the best of times. Every other Sunday is the day she is home all day with us. With a concentration span as short as hers, no matter how many mini-activities are on hand, her mind wanders and invariably one of us has to abandon the mini job and sort out another situation, which leads to a house and garden full of unfinished mini, mini activities by the end of Sundays.
  A bit of a cooking fest had been planned for a Mother's Day tea party which amused La no end as she scrabbled to steal bit of raw pastry, sandwich crusts, or, failing, that, a quick opportune plunder of the fridge, normally locked. We sort of survived that but when I returned from getting the washing in the front door was wide open....
  Of late La has embarked on random escapes into the front drive but she was not there. I was screaming in panic for all of 2 minutes before La's Dad spotted her plundering the recycling bin in the front garden across the road. As I have written, La loves magazines and she recognised those blue-lidded bins as the ones where all the reading matter is desposited. What with my hysteria and La's nonchalant, indeed  triumphant expression, unfortunately, La's sister M and her Dad were laughing their heads off at this spectacle as we resolutely bolted the front door behind us.