Sam Levenson said insanity is hereditary, you get it from your children. Can anyone out there relate?

We all have experiences we can tell about our children. Sometimes they drive you nuts. Sometimes they embarrass you to the point you want to look around and say, &uot;Who is that child’s parents?&uot;

I went out to eat dinner with a woman and her young child one night. The child really gave her a hard time during dinner. Finally she looked at me and said, &uot;You know I haven’t finished paying the hospital for him yet. Do you think they would repossess?&uot;

A few years ago my youngest son and his wife moved to Atlanta with their two daughters. When you move you live with a mountain of boxes until you can get time and energy to get everything put away. That is not a quick process.

Making good use of the boxes in the meantime, they stacked two of them against the wall by their recliner and used them for a table. This did not go without their oldest daughter’s attention. She went to school and told everyone they used cardboard boxes for tables. Needless to say, her parents were not very anxious to go to meetings at the school after that.

Then there was the time she told her dad she was going to call Social Services if he spanked her…but that’s a different story.

My youngest had exploits of his own when he was little. I left him at one of his friend’s house to play for a few hours one day. The two of them tried to start a campfire and set the woods on fire. Fire trucks and the whole works. Yikes!

My middle child, who works here at the paper, was misbehaving one Sunday during a gospel music concert. When he wouldn’t stop after being warned, I leaned over and gave him a gentle pinch and said, Shhh. Just then the music stopped. He yelled at the top of his lungs and started crying. Every person in that crowded church turned to stare at us. Embarrassing.

Then there was the time he and a friend found a can of paint and two paintbrushes. They went to his dad’s truck, got on the side away from my windows, sat down and began a paint job on the truck. Having forgotten his grandmother was home (she lived beside us), he thought he had it made. I heard her hysterical voice and went out to see what was happening. On the black truck, they were happily painting some pretty white designs. Can you say, &uot;Hate for dad to get home.&uot;

A friend of mine took her children to church on Sundays when they were growing up, wanting them to be raised properly. One Sunday she unsuspectingly sent her children to Children’s Church. The woman in charge asked the children if they wanted to request prayer for anyone. &uot;I want you to pray for my dad,&uot; her child said. &uot;What is wrong with your dad?&uot; she asked.

Looking very worried and upset the child said, &uot;He was so sick he couldn’t come to church this morning …because he got drunk last night.&uot; The Children’s Church director was the pastor’s daughter. Live through that one with grace.

I know there must be tons of stories you can share; happy, sad, funny or serious. Please e-mail me some of them at sylvia.hughes@r-cnews.com.