I used to love Sundays. I was raised Mormon, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and we Mormons go to church for three hours every Sunday. It has never been a chore to me, I have always enjoyed it. My children on the other hand, don't love it, and every Sunday there is an epic battle in my home to get dressed for church. Half of them don't want to go and try to finagle their way out of attending, the other half don't mind going but hate wearing anything but active wear. Needless to say I have to now gear up for Sundays. Today was different, and all because of one child. This child.
Alice got dressed today 25 minutes before our normal getting dressed time, without me asking, without me pleading, without me begging and bargaining, and because she got dressed Esther got dressed, and then Daniel and Charlie was the only one who tried to finagle staying home (which is his normal and always has been) yet he chose to wear a vest with his shirt and pants today, go figure. There was no yelling, no pleading, no throwing of shoes and everyone got their snack, went to the car and we weren't late to church. Small miracles, or as Mormons tend to say "tender mercies" were apparent in every aspect of our Sunday today, and I was very grateful.
Alice got dressed today 25 minutes before our normal getting dressed time, without me asking, without me pleading, without me begging and bargaining, and because she got dressed Esther got dressed, and then Daniel and Charlie was the only one who tried to finagle staying home (which is his normal and always has been) yet he chose to wear a vest with his shirt and pants today, go figure. There was no yelling, no pleading, no throwing of shoes and everyone got their snack, went to the car and we weren't late to church. Small miracles, or as Mormons tend to say "tender mercies" were apparent in every aspect of our Sunday today, and I was very grateful.
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