Let’s call it what it is. While I do not wish to be sacrilegious or disrespectful by any means, some Sundays I am wishing they’d really let my whole cup overflow while breaking that bread like it’s a Panera cinnamon crunch bagel. I feel like if the Lord’s Prayer were written by real life mamas, it would go a little differently.
Our children, which art under my feet at all moments,
Please don’t call my name.
Nap time will come.
Laundry will be done, and then scattered,
Throughout every room in the household.
Give us this day our daily Starbucks.
And forgive us for having the venti,
As we forgive them that wear yoga pants for actual yoga.
Lead us not into Target,
But deliver us from spending $200,
When we only went in for toilet paper.
For thine is the boxed wine, and the coffee, and the leftovers,
For ever and ever.
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