“Eat,” she commanded emphatically as she leaned close to his face.

Max leaned away from her in mock fearfulness. He dipped his spoon into the bowl and played with the cereal. Martha took off her apron, and neatly folded it before she placed it on the counter. She sat in her chair, between Jack and Max, who sat at either end of the table. She eyed them both – Jack as he ate some fruit, and Max with his spoon in his mouth.

“Ahem… ahem…” Martha exaggeratedly coughed.

Jack and Max regarded her with expectant wide eyes.

“The grace…” she announced as she plopped her hands on the table and wiggled her fingers.

Jack and Max exchanged glances. “But we’ve already started…” Max mumbled with his spoon in his mouth.

“The grace!” she commanded again and groaned loudly. “You two are pushing a very fine line. I think it’s time we resumed weekday church services to correct your blasphemous behavior.”

“For whose benefit Martha?” Jack asked. “Ours or yours? Last Sunday, your campaign manager made sure a camera crew was there to document your perfect family’s attendance.”

“It wasn’t just a camera crew Jack. It was the local Fox and Friends morning show! After their story, the donations rolled in from even more stupid hicks… I mean, supporters – like those poor people whose mobile home park was destroyed by a tornado.”

“I guess flushing their money down the toilet was more important than having a toilet.”

Max swallowed the spoonful of cereal, and boldly dipped his spoon in the bowl for another. “Mom, I’m not going to your First Self-righteous Church of the Unredeemed Grifters in the middle of the week. That place is scary. The woman who sat in front of us last time stood up and offered her son as a sacrifice because she found a bag of Skittles in his backpack.”

“Oh my! The insolence from both of you!” Martha gasped. “We do need the grace!”

Jack rolled his eyes, and Max slowly lowered his spoon into the bowl. As they tentatively reached their hands out to her, she grabbed them, and Jack and Max fell forward into the table. They eyed her almost fearfully.

“Dear God,” Martha said, “we thank you for your bounty, which I prepared,” she emphasized, “and for keeping us safe from terrorists, sexual interlopers, and the endless fake news from the liberal media which threatens our freedom. In your name, we pray for their forgiveness. Amen.”

Martha squeezed their hands and let them drop to the table with a thud. Jack and Max each shared pained expressions as they tried to massage the kinks from their hands.