Crushed

So the other week we were sitting in church.

Things were going OK for once. Vern and Ann were on each side of me. No shoes were being tossed. No whining, pinching, poking, prodding, or otherwise goading was occurring. They were awake but slouching. I call that a win for our family in church.

Then I look over to my right...

Vern had begun moaning loudly - holding his crotch.

"What happened?" I whisper.

"Moooom, I moved wrong in my chair and crushed my balls."

More writhing in agony but maintaining his balance on the chair.

"Mom, can I go to the bathroom?"

"No."

"But I maybe bleeding to death. I need to check."

"Church is almost over you can wait until we are finished."

Picture more groaning and writhing and carrying on in his chair.

"Mom, there go your grand kids!" (still holding his crotch and rolling to the floor)

I am trying SO hard to keep a straight face and finish church. I fail - the giggle escapes.

"Go in Peace - Serve the Lord
PEACE BE TO GOD "

Church is officially over. Vern sprints to the restroom to verify the family jewels are indeed not bleeding. Once reassured of that fact, he comes to the realization he will live. Life is once again good in Vern's world.