The first graders in our Sunday school class were going to receive Bibles in front of the church last Sunday. Before he went up to accept his from the preacher, one little boy flipped his eyelids inside out.
Wish I’d thought of that.
I get sick joy from messing with my husband I love. Sometimes when he talks in his sleep I draw out the conversation I couldn’t get from him that day.
It starts with him waking me up mumbling jibberish, like:
“…Yeah, that was it…” more jibberish.
“Why did you do that?”
“I … I…don’t know… He had the key…(snort)”
“Why didn’t you have the key?”
“I don’t… don’t know…(mutter, drool)”
“You would think they’d at least let you have the key.”
“Yeah, I don’t know…think …say…” furrowed brow.
“Wasn’t that funny?”
“Heh, heh, yeah, heh…” he’s laughing in his sleep now.
“Let’s talk about our relationship.”
Wide awake with a start.
Oh, he loves it.