No Church

On Sunday, we were frantically running around the house as we prepared to go to church. My boy was sitting in front of the TV, eating cereal and occasionally watching his crazy parents. We saved getting him ready for church until the last, because it is always a legendary battle to get him dressed. On Sundays, it is an epic war to get him dressed for church.

When I brought his ‘Church-clothes’ to him and started trying to get him ready, he protested and shouted in despair: “No Church, please, no church!” A wrestling match followed, as my wife and I teamed up against the thrashing, screaming two-year old. Technically speaking, the parents were victorious. The boy was completely dressed. However his appearance was not ideal. Noah sat there, sobbing in a white button down shirt that was previously ironed, but was now wrinkled from his thrashing. It was wet around the neck and chest from the tears falling from his eyes. His pants were twisted so that the button was almost aligned with his hip and his socks were floppy.

The war did not end with the clothes battle. As we approached the defeated toddler with his church shoes, his wrath was kindled anew. “No Shoes, Boots!” He was determined to win one battle on Sunday. He wanted to wear his snow boots to church. Normally, I wouldn’t care. But it was a warm day and I knew he would be extremely hot if he wore his boots. So, a new fight commenced. Again, the parents were victorious. The boy was beside himself with anger and humiliation. We served a cold and bitter helping of indignity that caused him to seethe.

As we dragged him to church, he continued his protests. I think he knew that he lost the war, but he was letting us know that he was not happy about it. Once we were at church, his attitude changed instantly. He happily ran to some seats and sat down.