Hey kids... have fun

My Dad and his sisters often reminisce about a time they had stayed up a little too late {as adults, mind you} playing games while the family was camping. Growing up watching them play cards into the wee hours of the morning, I can imagine how "quiet" they probably were in the heat of the competition. Well, I guess my Grandpa had had enough of the noise and yelled at them, "Hey you kids!..." Then stopped suddenly, followed by a "uh" in pain. And another shout of "Have fun!"

My Grandma had elbowed him right in the ribs to let him know to keep quiet and let the "kids" have fun.

Well, every once in awhile I get the elbow jabbed in my side reminding me to just let the kids have a little fun.

The only problem is, those times often involve me getting tricked by two little pipsqueaks to open the curtain, followed by getting soaked by two little spray bottles and two giggling kids.

{The best part about this particular bath time, was Pearl giggling at me, "Oh Mom! Have some fun!"}

I hate Sundays

When Jeff and I were newlyweds, we always tried to sit behind the same family at church. They had two little boys and a baby girl. Every week they did something hilarious in sacrament meeting. Like the week they rolled a bottle of Coke under the pews all the way to the front of the room. Or the time we could smell something and turned around to see the boys open a bag of Funyuns (with a Coke of course). Or my personal favorite, the time they brought a 3ft battery operated T-rex who growled and lite up! 

Well... almost 12 years later and we are THAT family!!! 

At least Jeff didn't break out his Funyuns too {which he symbolically did sneak in my church bag}. My apologies to anyone in the vicinity of WWIII or who might be allergic to PBJ sandwiches {one for each kid and the biggest kid of all, oh yes, eaten in the middle of sacrament meeting}.

I sure hope God understands that sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. 

I hate Sundays.