Too Much Cinnamon Roll

With Mom still on a house tour in Galena that weekend, Elmer and Jaya taking family Christmas photos, and Irish out with friends, it was a smaller post-church crowd at the Big House.

Carrie-Bri’s made-from-scratch cinnamon rolls big enough to sink a boat sent everyone into food comas that Sunday afternoon. Francis passed out cold under the coffee table. Rose dosed on the loveseat. And even I felt the heavy eyelids as the afternoon grew strangely quiet. Eventually, Francis woke and removed himself from underneath the coffee table.

“What were you doing under there anyway?” I asked.

“Protection from Yali,” Carrie explained. “Jumping on his back.”