23 dress shirts + love and logic

That's correct.  Twenty three dress shirts.  Eight just ironed, 10 draped over the end of my ironing board waiting their turn, 5 in the middle of a washing machine cycle.  That's what you get when you have a husband that wears a suit 6 days a week and 3 boys that wear a white shirt and tie to church each Sunday.  I've got my work cut out for me today.

I believe I have mentioned before my 3rd sons aversion to Sundays.  To say that he has an aversion is wildly understated.

Sunday morning he wandered around the house in his pajamas moaning continually about this most vile of days.  "If you're ready by the time we leave you're welcome to go with us," I told him calmly.  Lucky for me I had a wild card that day, a fevered 15 year old.  Perfect scenario for a Love and Logic moment.

10:50
time to go.
"Goodbye sweetheart.  We'll see you after church."

I glanced in my rearview mirror just long enough to catch a glimpse of his little form running out the door after us.  "Where is Nick?" my husband would ask as we slid onto the bench next to him.  "Running down the street in his dress pants and pajama shirt," I answered matter of fact.  It's worth mentioning here that we live all of one block from our ward house.  And yes, I drive it.  I'm continually lazy and habitually late.  I'm not proud.

Five minutes later we receive a text:  Nick is on his way.

Oh boy.  I couldn't wait to see how this was going to play out.  Opening prayer.  Opening song.  Announcements. Sacrament prayer.  And of course this is when our son decides to make his grand entrance . . . right thru the door in the front of the chapel, the one right next to the sacrament table.  Dress pants, plaid slip on shoes, a wrinkled dress shirt of which was a button off, leaving one side of the collar substantially higher than the other.  He had missed another button further down so his shirt gaped open like a croaking frog just above his belly button.  His hair was, well, straight out of bed.  "He looks like a hung-over college student." my husband whispered in my ear.  Nick sauntered confidently towards his empty seat on our bench, somehow unaware of the 200+ other church goers seated reverently behind us.  I cuddled him into my side.  "Glad you could make it," I said before planting a kiss on his rumpled blonde head.  

Ahh, Sundays.

You've got to love them.
or not.