Some funny stories from the first half of an exhausting Sabbath

Some days I know have been filled with terribly funny things—I know because I write them down throughout the day (on Facebook for the most part)—but by the end of the day I don't have enough of a sense of humour left to do them justice.

Right now, for example, it's 10:30 PM.

I got the last of my children to bed at 9:20, which, all things considered, is really pretty good. But, Alexander just wandered in (which means he was asleep for all of 1 hour and 10 minutes) and is now trying to go back to sleep in my bed and Zoë just wandered in as well (she hasn't fallen asleep yet).

So I'm just...tired. Like, reliving even the funny moments sounds too exhausting because the kids are...still...requiring...my...attention. But I suppose I can try anyway.

This morning we asked Rachel to help the kids get into the van so we could go to church. As she was heaving Alexander into his seat she accidentally bonked his head on the roof.

"Oh, oops!" she said. "Are you okay?"

Alexander grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked on it, and said, "Oh, oops! Are you okay?"

I mean, I didn't know a toddler could channel vindictive sarcasm but apparently they can.

On the way to church, Rachel was asking about Superman and his powers and wondering how his people could live on Krypton when kryptonite has such an adverse effect on them. So we discussed Superman mythology the whole way to church (very reverent of us) as well as different versions of shows and their merits.


"The Christopher Reeve movies were actually pretty good," Andrew said. "But then he got in an accident and was paralyzed—like Uncle Trevor—so he couldn't make any more movies. But I think he's still alive."

"No, he's dead," I said.

"He is?" Andrew said and then after thinking for a minute said. "Yeah. I think I remember reading something about that somewhere. Must have been pretty recent."

"Well," I said, making a little eek-face. "I think you'd be surprised how long ago it was."

I took a minute to look it up—it was 2004.

"2004!" Andrew gasped. "That's..."

"Not too long ago," I said. "I mean, it's before Rachel was even born. But not too long ago."

"Fifteen years!" Andrew said, still gasping like a fish.

I guess Christopher Reeve's death was a bit of culture Andrew missed out on due to his mission (missionaries are typically pretty unaware of the news, and he was out of the country to boot).

We had to be to church early for choir practice (we practice before church because we sang in sacrament meeting today and after church because Christmas is coming rather quickly). Inside the lobby there was a collection box for "baby item donations" (it's another ward's Christmas service project; ours is toys for foster children). Rachel marched over to the box with Alexander and put him inside because she's so funny.

And then during our choir number I had all sorts of mishaps. The last time we sang I tried leaving him behind with Rachel and then had to go back to get him because he started fussing. To mitigate that from happening, I just took him with me when I went up and he was just fine up there...except that he decided to start undressing!

By the time we'd finished singing he had taken off his socks and shoes and was working on his pants.

So as the choir was filtering off the stand, Miriam and I were frantically picking up baby clothes.

And then my hands ended up being so full of choir binders and socks and shoes and toddlers that I dropped my binder—but it had such momentum that it really went flying and then landed on a step and clattered down to the step below and...everyone's being sweet and saying that they didn't notice anything but—let me tell you—it was plenty embarrassing!