Because I Said So

It's well-established that I love Sundays. I just love them. I do. Not that I always did. I refer you to the painful and prolonged Sunday School Phase, a time of idle threats and a fair amount of yelling helpful things like, "Get in the car!" "Because I said so!" "A few hours won't kill you!" "I said GET IN THE @#$%'N CAR!" Oh, dear God, it was hell getting the sons to go to Sunday School at Temple Beth Bubbala. There were tears and slammed doors and some days, I just gave up and said, "Fine, stay in your room the whole day." There was just no way to make Sunday School look fun after a week of regular school and homework, especially when, as I backed out of the driveway with my Sunday School prisoners, other kids on the block were already playing basketball and riding bikes and making my job even harder. Luckily, this combined phase only lasted 10 years. By pick-up time, they were fine and no longer hated me for forcing them to go. The pay-off was a trip to McDonald's, proving, once again, that bribery works. Somehow, we survived the Sunday School Phase, and despite all the drama, the crying, the screaming, as a family, we retained our love of Sundays. The sons still like to spend Sundays with us, so maybe we did something right, after all.