Late to Church . . . Two Weeks!

Generally, I'm on time.

But not always.

Last Sunday:

After finishing my preparations for sharing time, I methodically bathed and dressed the two younger children while the older children responsibly prepared themselves. That, with additional minutes here and there reminding children to make beds and put dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor, left me with about 20 minutes to shower and dress myself. It was a race. I won the race, or so I thought.

Triumphant, I grabbed my coat, checked once more to make sure the iron was off, flicked off a few lights, and rushed downstairs to find that the three older kids had obediently already gone to the car. But there was Henry. Hiding under the table. With a spoonful of chocolate ice cream, probably his second, since a first seemed to be all over his face, light blue tie, and crisply pressed white shirt.

Henry was serious about that spoonful of ice cream. But I guess I was serious about leaving. A wash rag and a few screams (from Henry, that is,) and we were out the door . . . late.

This Sunday:

I decided to make a roller box for sharing time this week.

We rolled pictures that the children drew last week in primary--pictures of how they know Heavenly Father and Jesus love them. (This, by the way, was a hugely popular activity.)

I finished cutting creating the roller box Saturday night. It took a lot longer than I expected because I did it while we watched a movie. So Sunday morning I taped around 70 pictures together so they were ready to roll. After this took me at least 30 minutes longer than I expected, I was left with only 20 minutes to shower and dress.

When I rushed down, again triumphantly on time, the girls had again gone to the car. But there was Henry, completely naked, on the kitchen table wiping it with a paper towel. Yikes. I had forgotten to dress him after his bath. (And no, our children are generally not allowed on the table.) The worst of it, though, is that he had forgotten that I hadn't dressed him and had accidentally urinated on the kitchen table. "Sorry mom," he sweetly said.

So I was late because I then disinfected the table and dressed Henry. Funny--I could care less about a little urine on the table or being 10 minutes late to church when I think about that angelic apologetic face.