Sunday Sighs

My typical weekend goes like this: Friday FUNday! Saturday still Fun! Sunday STINKS like the dead animal your dog puked up onto your bedroom floor. (But that's another story)

I like to leave all my stress for Sunday. Throughout Saturday night my brain begins to subconsciously buzz with the to-do lists, and I awake Sunday morning a vicious bear. Husband and Daughter flee my wrath.

Well, Husband is smart enough to flee my wrath. But in his efforts to protect himself, he leaves Daughter behind, who like a lamb to the slaughter asks me in her most perky happy voice, "HI MOM! DID YOU SLEEP WELL? I'M HAPPY!"

SIGH.

With every muscle in my body tense I rush past her to the bathroom. No fatalities before church.

Our church has a breakfast cafe, and daughter grabs a napkin with a slice of banana bread. During the sermon she begins to eat it like a taco, trying to slurp the bread off of the napkin that is rolled around it. Crumbs are cascading out the end of the napkin. Even Husband notices, and gives her a nudge to adjust her feeding frenzy. She finishes the bread without incident, but I notice she has a piece of bread stuck on the inside of her leg.

I silently mime that she has something on her leg.

She thinks I'm telling her to close her legs, and smoooshes the bread between her thighs.

I give a look of exasperation and mime that she should open her legs and get rid of the bread.

She opens her legs, sees the smooshed bread ... and eats it.

My jaw dropped, and Husband is now silently shaking as he laughs at my distress.

SIGH.

Oh well. The most stressful day of the week is almost over...