I knew I shouldn't have let my son eat dessert with the Youth Pastor. Those Youth Pastors are bad news. It's not like little boys need any encouraging in the mischief department.
We had Thanksgiving dinner at our church. It was a wonderful meal with 25 or so people gathered. After dinner, The Pastor's son was eating pie with the Youth Pastor (When he's being adorable he's my son. On days like this, he's The Pastor's son.) and I was in the kitchen helping to clean up. A small clarification here, my son....oops, I mean The Pastor's son didn't really want any pie, so he asked me if he could just eat whip cream. I kind of felt sorry for him (first mistake) and because it was a holiday, I squirted a pile of whipping cream on a dessert plate and turned him loose with a spoon.
OK, so anyway, I was in the kitchen and he wanders over to me with his plate of whip cream.
"Yes?" I answered.
"I think this whip cream smells funny." He held the plate up for me to examine.
"I'm sure it's fine" I said, bending down to get a closer look.
Then my one and only son....oops, I mean The Pastor's one and only son, in front of God and everyone...on Thanksgiving day, nonetheless, smashed the plate of whip cream into my face and up my nose.
I don't think I've ever heard him laugh that hard. I don't think I've ever heard his father laugh that hard. He's only six, but I have this funny feeling that he's going to be grounded from going to Youth Group for a long time to come.