Sunday Dinner
		Sunday dinner with my mother Adah, my father Fred, and my three siblings was always lively. On one occasion all of us, except my mother were in a silly mood and we began requesting, in rhyme, items at the table. "Please pass the meat, Pete." "May I have a potatah, Adah." "I'd give you the moon for a spoon." After several minutes of this, my mother had heard enough. "Stop this nonsense now!" she shouted. "It's Sunday, and I would like to enjoy my dinner with some good conversation, and not all this chatter." Then she sat down, still in a huff, turned to my father and snapped, "Pass the bread, Fred."
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			A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Tenneva Jordan