Sunday morning, I began my rounds rustling children up for church.

First up. Knock, knock, open door. “Good morning, Sam.” Startled, “Huh?” in response. Lights on.

Next up. Knock, knock, open door. “Good morning, Jacob.” “Grumble, grumble,” in response. Lights on.

Two down, one to go. Knock, knock, open door. “Good morning, Ben.” No response. Then I remembered, my boy was at a sleepover and I got a little sad.

You see, my life just ain’t right with any number less than my three sons.