Sunday
“I don’t want to go to church!” the little boy shouted at his mother. The young woman was waiting impatiently at the boy’s door, holding his freshly pressed church clothes.
“Only bad boys skip church,” his mother warned. “If you don’t go, you don’t get to go out for breakfast.” The boy huffed. “”Don’t you want to get French toast with me this morning?”
The little boy made a face, then climbed out of bed. “Yes,” he grumbled as he took his clothes from his mother.
“Good boy,” she said sweetly, ruffling his hair with her fingers.
Five years later, the Sunday routine remained the same.
“I don’t want to get up!” the boy cried. He threw his blankets over his head.
“That’s too bad,” his mother said. “Get out of bed or I will drag you out to the car in your pajamas. Is that how you want…
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M. L. Trumbull 