Any Given Sunday

My kids wake up at 6:30, pour themselves enormous bowls of cereal, watch cartoons, run outside and squeal with merriment about the possibilities of the coming day.

And then I tell them that it's Sunday and time to get ready for church, and MIRACULOUSLY they all fall ill. And I mean like, I have the plague, ill.

If you are Timothy, your "whole self" hurts. That's as specific as he can be because he is very, very sick. Obviously.

Aly starts "coughing" and fake sneezing and says that she cannot possibly go anywhere because she is very sick. Sometimes, she cries. It's impressive. Really. (I know my parents are laughing right about now because at the ripe old age of 2, I was labeled a con artist. and boy was I a good one.)

Bryon just kind of looks sad and says "no?" Like it's a question. He is seeing if he has the option to say no.

Bryon, thankfully, takes it like a man and wears whatever I put on him.

Aly cries as I force her into a dress and brush her hair, then complains that it's the wrong dress and she needs piggies RIGHT. NOW.

Timothy fights like I have just told him that he is about to be taken to the place of his execution. Again, impressive. I just wish I wasn't the one getting kicked in the face. I wish he was half as vicious with strangers.

Eventually, we get there. Most Sundays. Some days, it is just not worth the fight.

Timothy continues his reign of terror, but the other 2 settle in and remember what a good time they have at church. Let's be real... I only take them to the fun parts. Mama can only handle so much.

YET! After all the fun and the singing and the treats, I am guaranteed a fight the very next Sunday. All my kids are like Dory. You know the fish that ooohhhh! Something shiny!