Every first Sunday of the month is fast Sunday; the day we skip two meals, usually breakfast and lunch.
As a kid, this was a hard thing. I remember hating fast Sunday. My kids are no exception. No one is forced to participate and the younger ones usually give in by lunch time, but for the most part they stick it out. But at about 4 pm, all the kids start pestering Megan to know when dinner will be served.
It doesn't help when, today, about that same time, our neighbor brings by delicious pastries for Hudson. Hudson was nearly assualted by her siblings begging for a bite.
I'm proud of their will power for self-denial.
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