Sunday Funnies

This morning started off pretty well for a Sunday.

By that, I mean that everything went smooth in spite of my little last minute emergency just before walking out the door (in which I had to reattach the bias edging to the collar of my blouse with a stapler because the hot glue gun would take too long to heat up).

Before the sermon was in full swing, I even remembered to duck out momentarily to track down some materials we were supposed to send off to one of our Missionaries.

On the way back to the sanctuary, I dropped by Judah's second Sunday School class of the morning to see how he was doing, and was told by one of the girls working there that they had taken this off of him during his first class:



I was totally taken off-guard.

Not to mention appalled.

First off, he'd apparently snuck it into church beneath his baggy clothing.

How it escaped my notice when I'd lifted him into the van and buckled him into his carseat, I'll never understand.

Secondly, I'm sure it caused quite a stir with his grandmotherly Sunday School teacher.

She's a veteran Sunday School teacher, but I'm quite sure that in all her years she has never come across this anything quite like this. Kids today...bringing guns to church!

I laughed my head off wondering what the poor gal must have thought...and at myself wondering how in the world such a thing had gotten past my mom-radar.

Although our boys do play with guns at home, I never let them play with them in the car. Realistic looking guns being waved around to neighboring cars could incite all manner of problems best avoided.

I slipped into the service and quickly wrote a note about it to Jeff, jokingly asking where we'd gone wrong that our almost four year old was 'packing heat' in Sunday School like some common street thug.

His shoulders heaved with silent laughter.

Because as you know, everything seems ten times funnier in church where you're supposed to be quiet and reverent.

After church, we were out to lunch and I still couldn't get the incident out of my head. "What was next if our little Judah was already going all gangstuh on us?" I asked with a chuckle.

Hearing this, Judah replied indginantly, "I'm not a gangstow...I'm a COWboy!"



And you know, it's hard to be too concerned about a kid whose reply when his beloved pistol was confiscated was to look up with big smiling eyes and inform his teachers with pride, "My daddy spiked up my hair dis morneen!"

Especially one that commands such a fearsome presence as a pirate.



Yep, totally quaking in my boots here.