Last night David and I sat down at the piano for a few minutes to practice a hymn called "Love One Another". As we were singing, Matthew and Leah busied themselves trading jabs and pokes to the eye while Michael, sensing that the universe was not actively revolving around him, kept trying to jump on David's back to get his attention. When that didn't work he started launching stuffed Angry Birds at his dad. After the third or fourth time of getting whacked on the back of the head with a hostile red bird, David said of Michael, through gritted teeth, "You know, it's funny that we're trying to sing a song called 'Love One Another' and I really want to punch him right now."
Cue hysterical laughter from Bonnie. It's parenting sewn up into one telling little moment -- you're sitting in a room overlooked by a picture of Jesus, singing a song in remembrance of his admonition to love each other. Meanwhile your children start competing to see who can be the most annoying, and before you know it, you're struck with the urge to bop one of them into next Tuesday.
The fact that David, a guy who can remain unruffled in the most irritating of circumstances, cracked enough to make such a comment made me feel instantly better about having to lock myself in the bathroom at least three times a day.
But it has ruined me. Now I get halfway through that song and irrepressible giggles start squirming their way up my throat. This does not bode well considering we have to sing it at a funeral tomorrow. I don't think David's newly widowed grandmother will find it funny if I'm struck by a laughing fit right as we launch into "By this shall men know..."
Ah, well. Stranger things have happened at funerals.