My Child the Sinner

I’m pretty sure my child, at the young age of three, has already sinned.  

This past weekend my sister-in-law, Mindy, got married.  Cory, Chase and I were all in the wedding party so the weekend was filled with many, many wedding festivities. On Friday, we went to the church to practice walking down the aisle and for Chase to practice walking up the aisle with two of the cutest flower girls in the world.  After some bribing (okay, a lot of bribing), we managed to get Chase to accompany the two flower girls down the aisle, one holding each of his hands. (On a side note: Chase looked like a little Hugh Hefner.  Not that I’m promoting my child becoming Hugh Hefner, but Hugh does have a thick wallet and that could put me into a very nice nursing home in 60 years. Although, I’m pretty sure I won’t need to live in a nursing home.  When I’m in my 80’s, I see my life going in one of two directions: 1. I will be living with Chase and he will be spoon feeding me when I’m too old and brittle to feed myself OR 2. If Chase continues to head down this sinning path, he will be wearing my skin like an apron and my skeleton will be sitting in a rocking chair in his bedroom collecting dust.  But honestly, I would be happy with either outcome.)

Any who, after the rehearsal we headed to the Groom’s dinner at a local restaurant.  After a blessing from the Priest, we feasted on chicken and ribs until I had to go into the bathroom and take off my spanks. I thought the night was going well and my little nugget was on his best behavior.  Okay, maybe not his best behavior, but he wasn’t destroying anything or insulting anyone.  Mindy and her husband, Alex, got up at the end of the dinner and gave a beautiful speech thanking everyone for coming.  I’m a sucker for a good speech and engulfed myself in the words they were speaking.  So engulfed that I momentarily forgot I was in-charge of another human being (oops, my bad).  My little nugget snuck up to the head table where Mindy and Alex were standing.  Then it happened.  My child crouched down, started to shake his derriere and started twerking on the Priest.

That’s right, my child practically twerked on Jesus.  

My child, my child, my child. Forehead smack, forehead smack, forehead smack.

My family at the wedding.  

Forehead Scratchers

Over the weekend Chase said some pretty interesting things to Cory.  Luckily, I heard all of them. Some of these things even made me scratch my head. 

Chase (to Cory): “Daddy, I like Mommy the most because you don’t have hair.  Sorry you don’t have hair, daddy.” (Way to kick Daddy when he’s down, buddy.)

Chase (to Cory): “Can I stick my finger in your belly button?” (Seemed like a legit question, but I didn't stick around long enough to hear the answer.)

But this one had me scratching my head the most.  I scratched so hard I now have a scab smack dab in the middle of my forehead.

I hear a little knock on the bathroom door downstairs.  Then I heard Chase sweetly say, “Daddy, I have something in my underwear for you.”  Of course this peaked my interest so I trotted downstairs to find Chase standing outside of the bathroom door, in his undies, with a light-up Spider-Man toy in-between his undies and his butt.   Then, I turned around and walked right back up stairs. 

Happy Monday!