Sometimes I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No particular reason. Just because I can.
On Sunday morning, my husband and I took the kids to church. I had the three-year-old with me. It was my husband’s turn to watch over the two-year-old A.K.A. Cujo. As I approached the entrance to the church, my son started freaking out. “No! No! No!” he yelled, followed by whining. His behavior got worse as we entered the church. He began to foam at the mouth and snarl like a vicious dog. Apparently I nicknamed the wrong child, Cujo.
I thought maybe he was overheated, so when we went past the baptismal fountain, I splashed some water on him. He screeched and then disintegrated into a pile of glitter (it’s easier to clean than blood and guts and prettier than plain-old ashes.)
Just kidding! Well….for the most part. He did freak out when we walked into church. One of the congregation members attending the late service, stopped and asked if he was tired.
“No,” I said. “I think he’s a vampire and being in a church freaks him out. He’s probably worried we’ll stake him during the sermon.”
Of course that was a completely ridiculous statement to make. My pastor would never stake a vampire during the late service. Stuff like that is only done during the early service. So really, my son had nothing to worry about. Unless he was a chicken. We have been known to slaughter chickens during the late service.
Do you think if PETA reads this they’ll know I was kidding about the chickens….and about my kid being a vampire….but mostly the chickens?