On Sundays, Lloyd and I like to take turns taking Weston to the early service at the chapel on base. We'd love to all go together, of course, but all God's people are grateful that we have ceased our ill-advised attempts to take Shane. Our taking-turns plan doesn't always work out, because the early service is EARLY. This week it was my turn and Weston and I got out the door on time; I love it when a plan comes together. The early service is EARLY, have I mentioned that? We don't always have time to do everything we'd like to do before we go, like brush our teeth or attend to other pressing needs. Nonetheless, we arrived on time and settled into our customary spot in the very back row.
You may recall a particular phrase that refers to a fart in church as something that is singularly undesirable. If you had been sitting in the back three pews this morning, you would have learned first-hand that farts in church, are, in fact, something to be avoided. I kept asking him if he needed to poop, all through the service, and he just kept saying, 'No'. And farting, the silent but deadly ones. Finally, into the reverent silence during the pre-communion prayer, he announced, 'I have to poop!'
I don't know where the bathroom is at the chapel, and there was no one to ask, because every head was bowed; congregation ignoring us to the best of their abilities. As stealthily as possible, I gathered his notebook, pen, pen cap, snack, hat, coat and other assorted church going supplies and replaced the four denominations' worth of bibles, hymnals and devotionals that were strewn about the pew. As I'm sure you can imagine, our efforts were not actually very stealthy, what with my panic and Weston's whimpering.
With all of our junk gathered, we flew out of there and raced to the Turumi Lodge next door. The bathroom there is a two-stall affair, and after getting him situated, I left the door to his stall ajar and went into the other one. Might as well pee while I have the chance, right? There I was, minding my own business, when someone walked into the bathroom. Seeing the door to the stall ajar, she walked right in. The next thing I heard was, 'Hi Weston!' It was one of the teachers from the CDC where he used to go to 'school'. She started having a chat with him, and he said, 'These poops are too big! They won't come out!' Well, that got rid of her, and everything came out all right.
We got our regular hot chocolate and coffee, and picked up pinecones on the way home. And how was YOUR Sunday?
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