The Wrath of Miss Sunday

I have a new favorite picture of all time…

and I’ve been dying to share the story behind it.

A few weeks ago, Gideon and Rebekah (who were karate-kicking and jumping on my bed) called me into my room and made a special announcement:

“In one hundred years,” Gideon proclaimed, “Me and Rebekah are getting married.”

They were both beaming with childish innocence, and I think they were both quite pleased with their scheme. And let’s face it…I was pleased that they weren’t duking it out and seemed to genuinely like each other at the moment. Thus, rather than explain that brothers and sisters really couldn’t and/or shouldn’t get married, even in one hundred years, I simply said “That’s great!”

Cut to the picture above as we drove all around Tulsa running errands with my Mom.

Rebekah had just told her Grandmother of their marriage plans…

and Gideon chose to drop some heartbreaking news from his seat on the row in front of hers.

“We aren’t getting married, Rebekah.”

Shall we take a look at that photo again?…

“Yes we are.” she emphatically said.

“No…we aren’t.” he said matter-of-factly. “Abigail told me that we can’t get married.”

Rebekah was greatly troubled by this turn of events.

“We are too!” she barked.

“Here we go…” said Betsie (with her eyes) from her rear-facing carseat.

“No we’re not, Rebekah” Gideon persisted.

“That’s not nice, Gid!” she yelled.

Her wrath turned to sadness…

which turned back into plumb-mad wrath…

Hell truly hath no fury like a woman – or a sister – scorned.

Gideon finally did have mercy on her and said “Well…I guess after I get real married, I could pretend marry you. But I can’t be pretend married to you as long as I’m real married…”

Whatever that meant, she accepted their new terms, and before I knew it they had both fallen asleep and our family was once more at peace.

I’m just glad the two lovebirds worked it out.

And I pity the fool who ever breaks Miss Sunday’s heart.