Humor

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I wake up Sunday morning thanking God for another day.
Then up jumps my youngest child, letting me know the Devil's on his way.

She starts out whining about what she wants to eat.
Then in comes my son the oldest and sits right in her seat.
Immediately she starts to scream "Moma brother won't get up".
He moves, the she demands, "I want juice in my Mickey Mouse cup".

As brother passes by her, he pops on the head.
She screams, "Moma Moma", I want to jump back in the bed.

I'm knocking and yelling outside my middle child's door.
See she's a teenage girl, and getting dressed is a chore.
She looks at me all frustrated and says, "I have nothing to wear".
She changes outfits at least three times, then starts messing with her hair.
After each outfit she ask, "Mom does this look all right"?
Which is a trick question, for yes or no will start the fight.

I'm looking in the mirror wondering if it's the kids or me?
I know I told those brain-damaged children, how Sunday morning ought to be.

They say the best-laid plans of Mice and Men often go astray.
The plans in my house on Sunday mornings never went into play.

After I get the kids in gear, it's time for me to get dressed.
The baby was sitting on the dress I laid out, and now it needed to be pressed.
I got a run in my stockings, as I struggled putting them on.
I'm having a bad hair day, and now my patience was gone.

Like every Sunday morning, I go to my quite place to regroup (the bathroom).
I pray, "Lord come into this place, and take the Devil out the loop.

On our way to Church the kids tease me, and thank God they're still living.
We renew our minds in the parking lot, so we can enter his gates with thanksgiving:)

Copyrights@2002 Pamela M Rhodes
Book Titled: A Little Something Something For My Christian Brothers And Sisters

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