The banana loaf I was making was in the oven when my 16-year-old came into the kitchen where the family had gathered.
“That bread smells about done don’t you think, Mom?” he asked.
I told him I had set the timer and it still had five minutes.
A little later he repeated his suggestion. “Mom, I really think that loaf is done. Maybe you should check it.”
Always quick to come to my defence, my 13-year-old son said, “Eddie, Mom’s been burning that banana bread for 20 years now. I think she knows when to take it out.”
To prepare for my daughter’s First Communion, I called the church in the town where we used to live to get a copy of her baptismal certificate.
We lived there for only a short while, so I didn’t know the clergy well. When the secretary asked me the name of the father, I told her that I couldn’t remember.
After a brief silence, she said, “Ma’am, I’m talking about the name of the baby’s father.”
When I was a kid, I used to pray every night for a new bike. Then I realized that the Lord doesn’t work that way, so I stole a bike and asked Him to forgive me.