Last night we babysat for some friends of ours who have 4 children. John had a work thing, so when she called asking for a babysitter referral, I offered my services as babysitter extraordinaire. Let me assure you, I only do this for very good friends. I'm nice, but I'm not crazy!
Our friends were going to be out late and they don't live close by, so we just decided to spend the night with them. Two of their children are very, very good friends with two of my children, and all of us just thought it would be the grandest thing to have a giant sleepover. Okay, John and Will weren't so hip on it, but the girls certainly were.
Things went great. We played outside for a long time, ate dinner and ice cream, then watched a movie before putting all SEVEN of the kids to bed. Okay, the bedtime part maybe wasn't so much fun. At this point, the sleepover usually ceases to be fun for tired parents. They were more tired than talkative though, so they conked out fairly quickly for which I was grateful!
I woke up this morning to discover that one of my children had an "accident" in the night. A bed-wetting accident. Of course that would happen at someone else's house. And of course, I hadn't packed extra underwear. Of course. Everyone got ready for church and we left a few minutes early to run by Walmart for some new underwear. One of their children was riding with us, and she asked why we weren't heading to church.
Me: We have to make a stop at Walmart.
Her: What for?
Me: To buy some underwear.
Her: You can't buy underwear at Walmart. They don't have that there. (She's 5 and just a little sassy.)
Me: Oh sweetie, they do in fact have underwear and everything else you could possibly need.
Will (from the backseat): Yeh, everything except Jesus. We need Jesus, but Walmart doesn't have HIM.
Me: You're right honey. You're right.
Oh how that kid likes being right.