I hate to be all death death death, funeral funeral funeral, but I have to write this out before I forget.
By way of using the same funeral home for my mother-in-law as we did for my father-in-law, we ended up with the same limo driver for both funerals. A lovely older black gentleman from Louisiana named Morris. Austin didn't ride in the limo last time because he was only 2 and he was a little turd, but this time he and I joined the folks in the limo. Austin really liked the limo and Morris too. He called Morris sir and kept saying to me that he needed "to talk to sir." Then he would turn his face toward the front of the car and holler "Sir! Sir!" Morris either didn't hear him or knew better than to engage a chatty 4 year old. But the whole scene made me and the other adults in the car giggle. I was so grateful to Austin for that, just as I was 2 years ago when we burried my father-in-law. Sadness and loss are so much more tolerable when you have a goofy little kid to entertain you and keep you up.
Austin also insisted on taking a turn at the mic in church. I managed to keep him in the pew until all the scheduled speakers had finished (including me) other than a few moments when he stood with my mom and held her hand while she did the intro. But by the end I figured he'd earned it, so I let him go up to the microphone while everyone was filing out. He babbled some mostly unintelligable stuff and I was just grateful that he didn't say any curse words -- 'cause god knows, he knows 'em all.
Anyway, after the graveside bit we headed back for the reception and we were trying to explain to Morris to drop us off at the first house, and then go up to the second house (my parents') and join us for food. Then Morris said "show me where the second house is so I know for next time." To which we all responded "NEXT time?! No next time, thank you," and cracked up.