This morning, while we were sitting at our "Bible Table," uh, reading the Bible, my dad apparently extended his legs too far and connected with foreign objects under the table.
"It's dirty under the table," he noted.
"You just messed up our hooooooooouse!" Mally said. Evidently the little kids had established somewhat of a domestic dwelling, using the table as a roof over their heads.
"Whoops!" Dad replied, "Didn't realize we had a village under the table. Sorry, guys."
"It's Hurricane Mike," my mom explained.
Our Bible Times are never dull.