Supposed to be at church right now. We’re not. Obviously. The last two Sundays, Abby has screeched with such rabid abandon as soon as we open the chapel doors, we end up out in the hallway for the entire meeting. “No! No nononono! NOOOO!” I mean really, what two-year old can sit for an hour? Why? Beanie cries and covers his ears whenever music or singing occurs, and we end up out in hallway. Again. I like church. I like going- I get good things out of it, and it’s good for our family- and yet, going with a two, four and six year-old for the 1 o’clock block is just torture. So, today we play hookie.
Abby has been eating cherries picked from Auntie Joy’s yard, and her cheeks and chin and nightgown (yes, I haven’t even gotten her dressed yet) are all stained a glorious Bing crimson. She’s sitting in the garden digging in the dirt, at watching the butterflies flutter around her hair. Beanie is wearing a dress and eating some peanut butter, Jeffrey is playing Lego, David is trying to teach Stella to whistle, and I still have my jammies on too. The windows are open, the house is quiet and the trees in the yard are whooshing peacefully in the soft breeze, giving us a break from the stiffling heat of yesterday.
I call that a good Sunday.