One Sunday when their dad was gone, things hit critical mass. To this day, certain details remain hazy, like what, exactly, occurred in the pews. The record’s clear, though, on what happened when they got home.
Their mother (strong woman, she) lined them up from oldest to youngest. One by one, five crestfallen hoodlums scuffed into the bedroom as though to the guillotine where the board of education met the seat of learning.
That was the day they learned that what was wickedly funny on a hard church bench wasn’t quite so hilarious when facing one’s mother. Their father learned he’d better stay home on the Sabbath, and their mother learned that she should’ve stuck with puppies.
OK. Not quite, but close. Real close.
Rhonda Schrock thanks her in-laws for voting to keep those kids. She’s fond of “the herd,” and that oldest one, especially.