“Katherine Elizabeth Herron, you shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you,” hissed Momma quietly, yet there was meanness in her voice that made me shut up real fast. I (but not without a quick, annoyed sigh; seven-years-old is too old for parents to boss around their kids) stopped talking to my neighbor, Mia, which happened to be my seat partner (and best friend) in Mrs. Lamen’s first grade class. Dramatically (Momma says I am a drama queen-in-training), I pulled out my sunshine-yellow, number two pencil and my bright pink, Taylor Swift notebook. I started sketching my tuxedo cat, Hot Rhonda, when Pastor Dan asked if there were any joys and/or concerns.
Pastor Dan is short, fat, and has brown hair that looks like our old bathroom rug. He always seems nervous like that time Daddy found me after I hit my little sister and ran and hid behind the couch. Momma says I need to stop saying mean things about Pastor Dan ‘cause he might put in a bad word with the “big guy.” I have tried hard to be on my best behavior ‘cause that “big guy” must be Santa, and I want a purple Barbie house for Christmas.
I thought that if I couldn’t talk to Mia then at least I could talk to Pastor Dan, so I shot my hand up. Pastor Dan gave me a weird look; Momma’s face got red like the ketchup I like on my French Fries (she must have been proud). “Pastor Dan,” I said happily, with a big grin (I was a little embarrassed to smile cause’ I just lost my right-front tooth), “I have a joy to share. Momma said that daddy is finally out-of-the-doghouse. Last week he went to Uncle Trevor’s house and had too much to drink and then made a dent in the truck. But now, Momma and Daddy have quit that loud, awful fighting and are sleeping in their bed together.”
All the other people in the church started to belly-laugh, and I was glad that they wanted to share my joy. However, there were two people that did not seem excited: Momma and Pastor Dan. Momma went from red ketchup to white snow, and Pastor Dan looked mad. I patted Momma’s hand gently, but she glared at me. “Katherine Elizabeth,” Momma said in a scary, whispery voice, “when we get home you are in deep, deep, deep trouble.” “Just please don’t make me sleep outside in the dog house with Taffy,” I whimpered.
Daddy, Momma, and I had a talk after church. Momma says that I am no longer allowed to raise my hand and speak during the service. I had no T.V. for a week, and Momma took away my Taylor Swift C.D. But Momma said that she forgave me and still loved me higher than the water tower. Pastor Dan talks about forgiveness and love a lot, so maybe he isn’t so bad.
P.S. Santa is not the “big guy.”
-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J
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