Pants

It's 5:00 am. The Reverend is up taking his shower. He preaches today, so he wakes up early to practice the sermon a few more times.

I wake up while he's getting ready. He returns from the bathroom to our room.

In a loud whisper (so as not to wake a sleeping baby), I ask, "Pants?"

The Reverend can't hear over the fan, so he walks towards the bed and leans in.

I repeat myself. "Pants?"

Chance says, "Excuse me?"

Once more I say, "Pants?"

Then I offer a bit of clarification: "Have you packed enough pants for church camp? It's going to be cool this week. Lows in the fifties."

Chance gives me a bewildered look. He cannot believe that I woke up with pants at the forefront of my mind.

He doesn't argue. He packs more pants.

It's 6:30 am.

Nasko is still sleeping.

Of course he is. It's Sunday. The only day of the week in which he can't sleep late.

As I am unloading the dishwasher, the Reverend wakes up our sleeping monster.

A few minutes later, he emerges chuckling.

"Nasko is absolutely your son," he states. "As soon as I woke him up, he sat up and said, 'Pants? Pants? Wear pants today?'" [Nasko hates shorts.]

The Reverend shakes his head. "I do not know what is wrong with you two."

Pants. Apparently it's on our minds!

Bedtime Stories with the Reverend

The Ice Project