Children are to be seen and not heard.
I can’t tell you how many times I heard that from my father when I was growing up.
I really never bought into it, but you can bet I immediately
shrank into the woodwork when he said it.
I knew, in no uncertain terms, that he meant to be quiet and behave,
and that meant now!
I also knew that if I didn’t, I would be the one on the losing end.
I had the pleasure of going to church with my friends in Florence, S.C. It was a beautiful Episcopal church built in 1864 with a conservative, formal service laced with all the pomp and circumstance. However, the scenery across the isle from me was far from pretty.
Enter a very nice-looking family; the mother, father and two little girls dressed in monogrammed matching “sister” dresses. They looked adorable until the little one’s head spun around a full 360˚. That’s when I reached for my pew seatbelt—you know the one that restrains judgment on others—and settled in for the show. I don’t like horror shows, but this one unfolded right before my eyes.