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Sunday Morning Race

Sunday morning are just not our thing. For whatever reason, we stay up way too late on Saturday night and then can barely crawl out of bed on Sunday morning, especially if we want to make it to 9am church.

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kick.

It's time to get up, wife.
Give me five more minutes. That's all I need.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kick.

Chet, we should probably get up.
No, I don't want to. My eyes won't open.
Mine either. Do you think it's possible to walk around all day with our eyes closed?
No.

ZZZZZZZZ

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kick. Kick.

For reals, we need to get up. Come on.
Groan.
Marriage is all about getting through the tough times together. This is one of them.
Grunt.
Come on, Chet. I don't like it either but I'm getting up. We can do this together. Let's sit up together on the count of three.
No. You sit up then help me up.
No, that's not fair. Through richer and poorer, sickness and health, tiredness and awakeness. We made a promise.
We made a promise to pick the other one up if they fell.
Well, no one fell. Get up.
I will fall if I get up now.

I don't know how we did it, but we got out of bed that morning. In fact, we all got out the door in time to make it to church. We had to drive separate since Chet had to leave before Sunday School to work at an event for the police department. As we were loading the kids up in the van, I challenged him to a race. Game on.

I shut the sliding door, zipped around to the driver's side and hopped in. Car already started. Score. Chet was just getting into his grandpa car and almost pulled out in front of me as I sped away from the curb, but backed off just in time. He can't wreck his Lincoln, now can he? Another score for me. I pulled into the alley way and Chet followed me. You see, if I were him, I would've taken a different route. The kids were cheering me on.

We are so fast, aren't we, Mom? Dad is soooo slow and his car is sooo slow.
Dad is never going to catch us. We are way too fast.

We pulled onto Highway 55 and I was still in the lead. Thinking Chet had given up on the race idea, I didn't make much of an effort to stay ahead. Big mistake. As I pulled onto County Road 34, Chet whipped into the second lane and passed me.

Mom, Dad passed you!
Ugh! Now he is going to win! Is his car fast now?

I, too, was disappointed in our failure. I apologized to the kids for failing them.

It's okay, Mom. We can just win the race another time. Don't worry about it.

Chet won, by a mere 14 seconds. I underestimated the Towncar.



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