The Eleventh Commandment

This morning we all piled in the car and drove 90 mph on two wheels to the Lord’s house. We peeled into the church parking lot with two kids fighting over a Lego – a single Lego the size of a baby’s nostril. Jason and I were twitching as we listened to The Monster Mash for the bajillionth time in a row.

I threw the car into park and turned to address my apostles.

Me: Ok, listen up. This is a special mass for Annie Bea’s preschool. I want you both on your best behavior. No talking. No fighting. No fart sounds. And when the priest calls the kids to the front, you hold hands and sit quietly at the altar.

Grady: I don’t want to do this.

Me: Well, there is a bake sale after church. If you act appropriately, you can each pick out a cookie. Deal?

Grady paused and looked out the window. (The Monster Mash just started again. Bajillion and one.) He contemplated. Contemplated some more. A long sigh.

Grady: Fine, I’ll do the church thing. But I’m only doing it for the food.

The Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not turn down baked goods.

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