And on the 7th day you will... erupt.

It is Sunday morning. There’s a kind of hush all over the world… all over the world except in the Murphy home.  The Tribe is dressed for worship and are supposed to be on the couch, semi-quietly occupying themselves so that their parents can become suitably clad as well. 

The “semi-quiet” part of our instruction to them was apparently sufficiently vague in nature, resulting in liberal interpretation, evidenced by the cry that soon stormed our way: Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! He hit me in the eye!

Scott (usually the more compassionate parent) responded with little interest or sympathy: Well, y'all are playing rough and that’s what happens when you play rough.

The "injured" boy, surprised and slightly taken aback, replied: OH no, we are not playing rough!!  We were just being volcanoes and the volcano just happened to explode at the wrong time!

With that he makes a one-eighty and speeds back to the “semi-quiet waiting area” with a: “Here I come, guys!  I’m a bit of hot lava!”

It is Sunday Morning.  There’s a kind of hush all over the world… except in the Murphy home where erupting volcanoes are ushering in the Sabbath.

(My sincere apologies to the unfortunate Sunday school teachers who had bits of hot lava on their hands for one long hour!)