Lex and I went to church by ourselves yesterday — Monstro’s down with a cold and BK’s ears still hurt — and on our way up the path to the sanctuary, Lex complained bitterly.

“There’s a pin poking me in the butt!” he said.

“A pin?”

“Yeah! Something’s poking me!” And then with every step he let out an “ow!”

“Let’s get in to church, put down our things, and go to the bathroom to check it out.” So we did that, and hot-footed it into the family restroom, where I had him take down his pants and underwear.

There sure were pinpricks on his bum. About 10 of them. I looked inside his undies and saw a tiny black spot that I thought might be a flea (if you’ve ever suffered multiple flea bites, you think fleas are the culprits for everything), but no, it was just a speck.

Then I had him pull up his underwear.

And Viola!

There was a feather that was sticking into the fabric covering his left bum-cheek.

I pulled it out and showed it to Lex.

“Honey, look at this. I washed your underwear with my featherbed cover — a loose feather must have stuck to this so the quill could poke you in the butt.”

He looked astonished for a moment, then laughed and laughed. I gave him the feather, he put it in the garbage, and then we fastened his pants and went back to church.

Seriously, you could have knocked me over with a feather!

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