My wife and I went to Bible study last Sunday night, one of about five married couples to be there. En-thronged in the amalgam of wedded churchgoers was the assembled herd of children of said churchgoers. We consumed vast amounts of garlic potato soup, which, I believe, is mentioned somewhere in the dictionary as a food group, and we hiked amongst the New Testament finding verses about the fruit of the Spirit. In the middle of the studious part of the evening, the children were cooped up in a separate room watching Veggie Tales or some such. Come prayer time, they escaped, complete with the Squeaky Shoes.
Imagine with me, if you will, a quietly incorrigible boy of one-and-a-half, content to do whatever he will, because it’s ‘cute’. I suppose I am a bit bitter. My parents will testify that I was never ‘cute’. This creates a supreme difficulty in getting away with things, thus, I learned to argue my case. But, I digress…
Imagine further, that this boy comes factory equipped with tiny ‘cute’ shoes that squeak like dog toys with every step he takes. Every step. By which I mean to say, every step. Furthermore, as we are circled up, holding hands to pray, the children find it amusing to ‘
So, let us arrive quickly at the conclusion, lest we too deeply explore my failures as a Christian, and lest I give more weight to my impatience.
1) If you buy my children squeaky shoes, I will buy your children an air horn and a Pixie Stick.
2) If you give my children squeaky shoes, I will fill the kids with candy, and send them squeaking to your house. Thanks for babysitting, you’re so nice.
3) If you wear squeaky shoes, I will hew your squeaky legs off at the ankle.
4) If your children fly amok while I’m trying to concentrate, they will each receive a Benadryl, an Oreo, and a glass of milk.
5) If you invented Squeaky Shoes, look me up. Let’s chat.
6) If you make potato soup, be my friend. Also be my wife’s friend.
*Sorry about the blogging hiatus. There are many things going on at the Whipple house these days. More on that later, when the time comes.