Today we were driving to church, and the familiar banter between siblings filled the air. Elbows were dug jovially into rib cages. Treasures were held out just slightly farther than little hands could reach. Shoving ensued, and was promptly followed by the unavoidable, yet completely annoying, tattle.
All this before we were even out of our neighborhood.
So, in an attempt to find a little peace in my heart on the sabbath, I put on a CD, and declared that the car was now a talking-free zone. The Husband raised his eyebrows quizzically when the opening number of Joseph filled the air.
I shrugged my shoulders, and proceeded to lose myself in Donny's melodic, "Any Dream Will Do."
Then, in a flash of brilliance, I announced that we would be watching Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat tonight for family night.
Groans immediately filled the air.
[And they all came from the Husband.]
His protests were naturally matched by those of his boys. I was preparing to dig in my heels for battle, when suddenly, from the back seat, a tiny little girl voice spoke up.
"But, Dad, aren't we supposed to be flexible and try new things?"
His very words to them less than 12 hours before, when a plate of foreign-looking food was placed in front of them, had now come back to haunt him. I smiled sweetly, awaiting his reply.
I'm pretty sure that grunt and roll of the eyes was his surrender.
And so tonight we all watched Joseph. Two of us loved it; three of us didn't. Any guesses who loved it?
Although, how anyone could not love this is beyond me:
[Note to self: Must stop posting pictures of half-nekkid men on the blog. Eh, maybe tomorrow. This is just too delicious. And it's about the Bible, after all. How wrong can that be?]