It would appear that I have ran a little bit behind again in adding post to my blog. I’m going to try and remedy that today. While I would like to post about our wonderful Spring Break or the departure of our beloved goat, Snowball, I simply do not have time at this point. So, for the moment I will focus on yesterday.
Our church held a chicken dinner. Dan is a chicken fryer, which requires him to be ready to work prior to the dismissal of our service. He usually goes to a neighboring church, as they have an earlier mass. While I could get up and go with him, I do not. If you know me at all, you know that I am not a morning person. So, the kids and I attend church by ourselves on chicken dinner days.
When they were younger this always proved to be a challenge. However, as they’ve gotten older, this task has gotten much easier. Yet, I felt the need to remind my children as we walked into church yesterday, the proper way to behave. And in addition to my own children, I also had my nephew, Beau, with me.
Now this shouldn’t have been much of a problem as they all know how to act in church…or so I thought.
We were almost midway through Mass, when I thought, “We have this. We are doing a great job.”
And then I looked down at my youngest…
That is when I realized, Owen, had inserted his finger into his nose. I gave him a look to quit it! Cut it out! Stop it right now! And thankfully, he did!
However, it was only moments later when I looked down and realized he had his finger shoved in his ear. What on earth was he doing? Yet again I shot, Owen a look. Quit it! Cut it out! Stop it right now! Thankfully again he took the hint. He stopped.
Certainly he would stop any further inappropriate behaviors now.
That is when I realized he was picking at his teeth. So for the third time, I shot him a look. Quit it! Cut it out! Stop it right now!
“But, Mom, there is something stuck in there.”
Now, I hate to tell this child, but there are gaps in between his teeth the size of the Grand Canyon. There is nothing stuck in those teeth. Somehow, however, I managed to get him to stop.
Thankfully, in the midst of all this chaos, Mass had continued on. We had almost made it. Church was almost over. We might survive after all.
And besides, he had ran out of orifices and things to pick at. Or so I thought…
It was then that I felt a gentle pull on my shirt.
Of course it was Owen. He proceeded to hand me a wad of pocket lent.
When I shot him the “Quit it! Cut it out! Stop it right now!” look, he began to speak.
“This was in my pocket! I don’t want it there! ”
Well, I didn’t exactly want it either. However, to keep him quiet, I held onto it.
As the last song was sung, and the priest walked down the center aisle, I continued to get more deposits of pocket lent in my hand. I was so delighted.
We left church with a renewed spirit, clean orifices, and cleaned out pockets.
Only At My House,