Yesterday morning I sent the kids out to get buckled while I grabbed the last of our things and made the mad dash out the door for church. This is a weekly rat race of us attempting not to be late on Sunday mornings which I personally think is only amplified by the fact that we live one mile away from church. You see, when you only live a mile away, you constantly think you have time to do one more thing like unload the dishwasher real quick, throw some mulch down in the yard, write a novel, or figure out how long Bruce Jenner is going to let his hair get before he publicly announces that he would, in fact, like to be a woman.
Anywho - From inside the house - I hear Emma Grace screaming. I walk out to the garage to find her in the back seat covering her eyes and yelling at the top of her lungs.
Apparently the boys thought it would be a great time to practice their Magic Mike Routine in front of their sister. Both had their pants down and were showing her their booties (and probably other parts as well....) I didn't even know they had a Magic Mike Routine.
They were in prime position for discipline from Mom.
And then I said what we probably all say at some point on the way to church:
"Now ZIP up your pants and SIT DOWN! Dang it! You're making us late for church!"
And that's just how we roll around here some days.
Yes, we are obviously so proud.
Hi-freakin-larious.
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