Polygamy

Both hubby and myself were raised Southern Baptist in Southern towns throughout the 70's and 80's. We share memories of eating fried chicken on Sundays, marvelling at how every youth group kid had dated every other youth group kid and have fond memories of playing quiet games on church bulletins while dutifully nodding our heads in agreement with the preacher that we would burn in the fiery bowels of Hell if we engaged in pre-marital sex. All the while, my preacher was diddling the deacon's wife.

We have admittedly been remiss in our religious duties to our children. Apparently, sending them to a preschool in a Presbyterian church basement and singing Happy Birthday to Baby Jesus on Christmas morning do not count.

I was never alarmed by this obvious shirking of our responsibilities until it was brought to my attention that Cornell was dabbling in polygamy. His best friend's mom overheard them talking about their preschool girlfriends.

BFF: Ava is my girlfriend. Cornell, you have to pick a girl to get married to.

Cornell: I have three girlfriends cause then, if one dies, and I am still alive, I have the other two. If that one dies, and I am still alive, I have the other one. And if that one dies, and I am still alive, I'll just get some more.

Next thing I know, he'll be telling me I should only wear skirts and no make-up, calling me "woman" and ordering me to hurry up and make him a chicken pot-pie.