I will preface this by saying that the boys sat through a two and a half hour funeral service fairly well. A friend of ours died. His wife was the kid's adopted Grandma when we first came here. He died fairly suddenly of cancer when he was too young.
We took the boys to the service. My daughter was invited out already and I wasn't sure she was ready for a funeral.
They sat fairly well. Towards the end, they got restless, so they entertained themselves by following the Order of Service printed in the bulletin. Right at the end as the last prayer was ending, my middle son poked me and whispered, "Mom, what is a 'prostitute?"
What?! Prostitute? Why now?! SHHH!!!
But he poked me again and pointed to the Order of Service, "See, mom, it says it right there!"
I looked down. POSTLUDE... ummm. a little different than prostitute!!
Later during the lunch, I shared this umm, misreading, with our adopted grandma. She giggled. We only wished he was hear to hear this unique mistake... he would have howled and said, "THAT'S what I get at the end of my funeral?!"