A Very Bloody Sunday School

(After the death of our mom, my sister turns to religion to help cope. She meets a nice lady urging her to join her church. I’m with them.)

Sister: “Is your church nice?”

Lady: “Yes, very well maintained.”

Me: “Whenever I go to church to pray, I’m always distracted by children running around screaming their heads off. I don’t like that.”

Sister: “Oh, yeah! I remember the last time that we went, this strange little girl was whispering in our ears!”

Lady: “Really? What was she whispering?”

Me: “Just ‘psss, psss, psss.’ Nonsense.”

Lady: “Well… I can promise you that in our church, we don’t have little children running around screaming. Sometimes, a child gets fussy and the parent doesn’t let them scream, just takes them out.”

(My sister and I nod in relief.)

Lady: “Er, wait, I don’t mean ‘take them out’; I mean, they pick them up and take them outside, you know?”

(My sister let out the first hearty laugh I’ve heard since our mom’s death. I was happy to hear it!)