Last Sunday we got home from church and I declared it a day of rest. As if I was the first person to do so. I stepped out of my “nice” jeans, slipped into the olive green pants with the drawstring waist and plopped myself on the couch with a new book. I even exchanged the sofa pillow with one from my bed so I could laze away the afternoon reading without the usual neck pain.
A little thrill rolled up from my stomach at the prospect–no, the justification–to rest. Nope. Not available. Resting! I’d say when kids rolled in with their requests. And that’s pretty much what I did. Unless you count listening to a young boy recite his Christmas wish list as work.
Whoever said girls are more verbal than boys hasn’t met this guy…
“So, I’m going to sit down and talk to you,” he said, flopping himself on the cream-colored pillow like a grown man on a psychiatrist’s couch. Read more →