My children took frequently took advantage of one of my fatal discipline flaws. Should their behavior cross the line and require discipline, activating my funny bone rendered me useless. The pastor in our small Methodist Church offered healing by laying on of hands at the end of the regular Sunday Service. I suspect that was one of the few times John, age ten, had ever listened. He made a move as though he were heading to the front. I was totally surprised, and caught his arm, thinking he’d misunderstood
”Where are you going?” I asked.
”I’ve got a heat rash!” He giggled.
”Sit down.” He got me.
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I’m giggling! Ha! Your funny bone reminds me of MY family’s funny bone. My youngest son, Jay, when “escorted” out of church service (ahem–behavior “issue”) turned and yelled, “Pray for me” to anyone who might hear. Giggles abrupted! LOL!
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I like Jay.
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Aw, thank you. He’s a hoot! I like your son 😉
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One Sunday when they passed the plate John whispered to me. I thought he said, “I gave five dollars. What did you give?” What he actually said was, “I got five dollars. What did you get?” He’s 52 and he’s still my precious “bad boy.”
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