Yesterday I woke up to Clark running into my room telling me that Grant was bugging him so bad that he made him drop 3 bowls of oatmeal on the floor.

Right.

By 8 a.m., I had already posted the following status on Facebook:

Goal for today: Do not sell the children. Do not harm the children.

I just want to report that despite going to the store and having the same kind of experience there that I would have had if I had rented 3 chimpanzees to accompany me …

… and listening to cackling, arguing, tattling madness everywhere I went in our van (a.k.a. parental torture chamber on wheels) …

… and asking my children over and over and over again to do their chores, and when they finally got moving in the late afternoon, I had to clean up some kind of mysterious collision that resulted in 3 large glasses shattering and scattering all over the kitchen floor …

… and trying to watch a movie together where Grant asked me every few seconds what was happening despite the fact that the movie was trying to explain what was happening if he would actually listen …

… and making a dinner that was noticeably insufficient for the starving, suffering masses,

I survived.  At Family Home Evening I bore my testimony about the scriptures, and shared a personal, uplifting story that went something like this:

I just want you children to know that if I had not read my scriptures this morning, it’s quite likely that I would have killed you today.

It was a touching moment.  You had to be there.

Carry on.