After visiting my parents ward to hear their talks, teaching primary at our own ward, coming back to church for a music practice, then back again for a fireside, Teresa had to balance both kids while my attention was on my youth choir. Between a plethora of musical numbers, there were some eight speakers, and each was speaking as long-winded as if this were sacrament meeting. Apsen needed to go out. Then Ariah needed to go out. Aspen wouldn’t stop fussing. Ariah wouldn’t stop asking questions about anything and everything. Mommy this. Mommy that. Over and over. And after who-knows how many hours of church, the speakers just wouldn’t stop yapping. Yapping and yapping. Fussing and crying. Mommy this, mommy that. Finally Teresa couldn’t take it anymore. We had to leave early (grabbing refreshments on the way out). Teresa came the closest to a nervous breakdown I’ve ever seen her, laughing and crying at the same time. It was cute, actually. As we drove home, Ariah announced from her car seat, “I spilled my milk.” An exasperated Teresa replied, still laughing and crying, “I knew you would. I knew you would.” It was a cinematic moment.