From a Christian comic on TV (paraphrased):
I believe all children become demon possessed on Sunday morning. The normally compliant child runs like a banshee through the house, half dressed (although you dressed him only 2 minutes ago) slinging food on the animals and blaming his siblings for everything. The others follow suit so as to not be punished for something they didn't do. The correction from Mom and Dad start at a reasonable level only to escalate to yelling in a matter of moments.
"Tommy, where are your clothes?" "Tommy, please stop running." "Tommy you are grounded for the rest of your life!"
Once in the car, I sigh a futile sigh of relief and back out of the driveway. Then the demons put things into high gear. "He looked at me!" "He's touching me!" "He's breathing my air!" Well close your eyes, lean away, and stop breathing, I suggest. (Doesn't work, of course.) And soon I am yelling at the top of my lungs, swinging my arms toward the children in the back seat in an ineffective attempt to exorcise the demons before we reach the church parking lot.
I am swinging and yelling "Don't make me stop this car!" when I notice elderly Brother Smith passing me. (Please, God, don't let him see us like this!) God answers by letting Brother Smith smile and wave.
All through church service I anticipate the reprimand from Brother Smith and at the "Amen" he shuffles through the wave of people right up to me. "I noticed you were having problems on the way here...", he said pointing his righteous finger at my nose. "And I have a little advice for you." (Ok, here it comes...) "Next time you feel like taking a swing while you are driving, just hit your brakes real hard and you will be able to reach those little demons!"
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