Sometimes on Saturday, after we’ve taken our early morning walk and participated in an afternoon lounge with our mother, we become unexpectedly on high alert when our parents announce that the garage door opener stops working creating a questionable situation when it comes to our food stash. Will we ever be able to eat again? we wonder to ourselves. But it turns out that there is nothing to poopie in our pants about because our concerned parents turn into detectives and talented garage door openers, thereby ensuring that we will be fed forever.
Can I Get a Hallelujah?
Glen of the Grateful