"Oatmeal Sunday" is a nearly weekly event at the Stanfield's. As the name suggests, we have oatmeal on a Sunday. The entire family enjoys oatmeal, especially with butter and sugar. As an added treat, the boys like to stir in a spoon full of peanut butter and eat it like "real men". The girls like to have a little bit of peanut butter on the side of their bowl and dip into it with every bite, very dainty. Clara likes to eat her's with her right hand and hold her spoon in her left.
I am not sure exactly when Oatmeal Sunday started, but am pretty sure it was a Sunday. Our quick cook oatmeal makes it a quick, warm meal that still allows a little bit of sleeping in, before racing around the house so we can be on time to Sunday School (on time give or TAKE 15 minutes).
So this morning was an Oatmeal Sunday...we also added buttered toast...it was 5 star affair this a.m. We ate our oatmeal as Sadie lurked around the table waiting for her turn. Sadie also likes oatmeal and knows what an important job she has in licking the bowls clean so as not to have cement, dishwasher proof oatmeal leavings in the bowls*. She takes it very seriously and doesn't miss a spoon. As everyone was finishing up their oatmeal, except Clara who was diligently working on some between her 2nd and 3rd digits, I headed upstairs to get kid's clothes and Kevin conveniently disappeared (j/k). I returned with clothes and adamantly encouraged the young ones to put them on. Kevin, got Clara and himself ready. I did Ainsley's hair. Kevin tamed Lincoln's hair. We poured to-go cups of coffee and were out the door to church. This is where the first comes in...WE WERE EARLY...3 whole minutes. Amazing. Who knew getting to church early, means one of the best parking spots? Who knew there were people who actually got there even earlier than 3 minutes before church...craziness.
With successes like these, there is no stopping us. Who knows New Salem UMC, you might even see us at early service...might, I said might.
*realizing now, I might want to mention Sadie is a dog. Not our 4th child that is forced to lick the leavings of all the other family members bowls.