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No matter how early we wake up on Sunday, it is always a struggle to get to 9:00 church on time. Imagine our delight when we were all bathed, clothed and ready to go at 8:45 this past Easter Sunday. Doug looked especially cute in his new Khaki pants and striped collared shirt, hair brushed and face oatmeal-free. We all marched out of the house towards the car when Doug faked-left and speed-waddled into the neighbors yard.
It was only moments later when he disappeared completely from the waist down. Doug had apparently decided to take a soak in an inviting toilet-bowl shaped hole in the neighbor’s grass. Doug’s face conveyed a look of surprise and delight as he surveyed his murky personal Jacuzzi.
Ryan was the first to react. He ran and pulled the soggy mini Michael Phelps out of the puddle. Ryan quickly discovered, however, that a dripping Easter outfit was not the only mischief Doug had gotten into in the few nano-seconds we were outside. Doug’s stubby little fingers were clenched tightly around some mystery object. Upon closer examination Ryan discovered Doug had befriended an alarmingly large and foamy slug (Ryan later noted that the slug’s antennae eyes seemed to be pleading morosely “help…oh help”).
We took Doug inside, hosed him down, wiped the three ounces of slug-snot off his hands, changed him into a less-than-satisfactory outfit and hauled to church. The bishop had just made the opening announcements when we arrived and the only seats left were in the very front row. We walked to the front with our heads bowed in shame and our hands plunged guiltily in our front pockets. We were late for church again.
It was only moments later when he disappeared completely from the waist down. Doug had apparently decided to take a soak in an inviting toilet-bowl shaped hole in the neighbor’s grass. Doug’s face conveyed a look of surprise and delight as he surveyed his murky personal Jacuzzi.
Ryan was the first to react. He ran and pulled the soggy mini Michael Phelps out of the puddle. Ryan quickly discovered, however, that a dripping Easter outfit was not the only mischief Doug had gotten into in the few nano-seconds we were outside. Doug’s stubby little fingers were clenched tightly around some mystery object. Upon closer examination Ryan discovered Doug had befriended an alarmingly large and foamy slug (Ryan later noted that the slug’s antennae eyes seemed to be pleading morosely “help…oh help”).
We took Doug inside, hosed him down, wiped the three ounces of slug-snot off his hands, changed him into a less-than-satisfactory outfit and hauled to church. The bishop had just made the opening announcements when we arrived and the only seats left were in the very front row. We walked to the front with our heads bowed in shame and our hands plunged guiltily in our front pockets. We were late for church again.
2 comments:
Ooohhh, Douglas! I love it!
I especially like Ryan's impression of the snail: "Help, oh, help!"
Lol. Just goes to show you never know why people walk in late (though Janssen and I usually have less of an excuse . . .).
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