What A Difference A Week Makes

Sundays are fairly busy around here. Hubby's a preacher and is out the door early. That leaves me to get five of us looking presentable (my standards are low) and out the door in good time. You don't know how many times I've heard, "It's so nice to see you let your children pick their own outfits" -- which is a backhanded way of sounding nice when you're really saying, "I can't believe you let them out the door like that!" Admittedly, the girls do have a rather strange sense of style. (Think Laura Ingalls meets Pippi Longstocking).

When you throw daylight savings into the mix, it isn't pretty. Last Sunday, the boys revolted and had their own little slumber party right on the kitchen floor. Considering we had one less hour to get ready and 20 inches of snow to deal with, just getting to church was a Herculean feat.

So you can see why I had to capture this morning on camera. We had enough extra time that Bobo was reading stories at breakfast and Crockett got to take his morning nap at home, as opposed to in the car. I'm fairly certain this kind of Sunday will never happen again, so I had to jot it down. Next week I'll remember this day longingly as I rush around trying to find Easter bonnets and boy shoes that fit (not too tough) and aren't caked in mud (much harder). Ah, the good old days...