It’s vacation Bible school week at church. They rented a bouncy house and set up in the sanctuary. I was set to spend my morning ignoring my duties and bouncing. Have I ever told you that, to my mind, the most persuasive argument for marriage is my plan to have a bouncy house at the reception?

Yesterday the son of my little sister’s fifth grade boyfriend bounced right out of the house and smacked his head on the floor. His mom had to take him to urgent care for three stitches. Today the bouncy house is deflated, and so am I.

Poor little guy.

And, to a lesser extent, poor little church rat.

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