Maybe because it was so consistent, I remember vividly the feeling of coming home church on Sundays as kid. Especially on a warm summer afternoon or on a rainy Sunday. We would rush from Primary or Young Womens to the car and jerk the doors open to let the unbearably hot air out. We'd ride home with your feet and arms hanging out the windows and then strip down to our slips and t-shirts when we got home because Dad wasn't a believer in air conditioning. We'd fight over the spot on the couch under the ceiling fan and listen to Mom in the kitchen making dinner. Sometimes we'd help but I don't remember that so much. Now that I'm the Mom I notice those things.
Maybe because it was so consistent, I remember vividly the feeling of coming home church on Sundays as kid. Especially on a warm summer afternoon or on a rainy Sunday. We would rush from Primary or Young Womens to the car and jerk the doors open to let the unbearably hot air out. We'd ride home with your feet and arms hanging out the windows and then strip down to our slips and t-shirts when we got home because Dad wasn't a believer in air conditioning. We'd fight over the spot on the couch under the ceiling fan and listen to Mom in the kitchen making dinner. Sometimes we'd help but I don't remember that so much. Now that I'm the Mom I notice those things.
When we got home we were always STARVING, as if there were no other time during the week when we were forced to go 3 WHOLE HOURS without food. Jillian and I recently coined a fun after-church-snack. Whipped cream and vanilla wafers, sometimes with Nutella. Always hits the spot. Love these Sunday afternoons too.
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