Thursday, 12 February 2015

The Prayer Meeting...

Good day to you, reader.

Earlier today my family was having a prayer meeting with the church we have. I had exactly no idea it would happen, even though I knew some clues throughout the few weeks before we had the meeting. Dad built a pulpit (the stand a preacher goes to to conduct a sermon), and other signs that I should've known.

As for me, I was upstairs throughout the entire meeting. Why some could ask? My brother. I will not explain it, because I think I mentioned the reason in the holidays. So moving on. I had to make sure he didn't disrupt the prayer meeting, because we all knew what would happen. Simple:

- He would go down the stairs one by one
- He would continually stare at everyone, and then
- The church will look at him
- I come down
- Bring him upstairs
- Realize Abby has followed...

And we all know what happens there. Yells. Disturbing the meeting and the church goers themselves. But don't worry, that never happened (thankfully). What really happened was, me and my brother were in our room, lying down, tossing toys. Toys such as toy blocks, fake money, my ted...nevermind. We were settling down for the whole thing.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited until we could hear the first few leave. Then, surprisingly, my brother rises from his slumber, moves to the door, takes a look back at me, begging him to stop, and opens the door.

Then that's when the nothingness and awkwardness part of the story begins. Part of my church youth were at the stairs, who looked at my brother. Who looked at them. Who looked at him. Who looked at...you get what I'm saying. Moving on, he decides to go downstairs. Not long after, I follow. Downstairs, the mums are chatting away about the prayer meeting that had just finished. The Dads are in the garage, playing pool.

And the youth are playing around the house, whereas I am sitting by myself, tired. Because I did sleep in the bedroom.

A couple of hours pass, and to summarize the whole thing....my sister was playing up big time. She was doing so much ridiculous things, even I couldn't handle, because they were just so annoying! Urgh! Just too painful re-thinking about it! But anyway, at this point of time in the story, she has just whacked me with the pool cue stick thing. She's so cheeky, that girl!

I'm surprised she's good in class, sometimes.

Anyway, I take her to Mum, and she's screaming. But I know it's fake (I mean, I'm her brother), and ignore. Problem is, the others think it's real. Gosh dang it, I think as I'm taking her to Mum. Mum was calm, as always, in this particular situation...by then it was time for the rest of the church visitors to leave, but my sister...gosh, she literally ran out the door. Into one of the visitor's car. I jokingly close the door, and thankfully she comes running back in.

Then runs out. Dang it.

We waved goodbye to them, and they waved goodbye to us. And my sister was being rude to Mum, again, and it was not pretty. On the hard ground, slapping it hard. 5-year-old's are not like this.

At all. And for the record I didn't do anything that time. ;D

Back inside, or should I say, between the outside and inside (ha!), Mum and Dad were putting the cars back into their almost original spots.

And after a quick moving of some furniture...here I am, typing this quick story up.

The. End.

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