I once was able to just walk out of church, get into my car and go about my daily business.
In which a common parent-child “conversation” is relayed, one which highlights the near-impossibility of achieving a base understanding when it comes to certain subjects, further solidifying a father’s status as “moron.” Or something.
In which an excerpt from my “forthcoming” common-sense, “instant-classic” parenting “book” is shared, one which highlights common flawed thinking as it pertains to being a parent AND being on time. Or something.
If our house were to be violently ransacked and robbed while we were at church one Sunday, I'm not sure we would be able to tell. In fact, it's possible that it might look better than we remembered leaving it.