Pod heathens

Occasionally, without warning, my heathens are snatched away and replaced with delightful little aliens with good manners and sweet personalities.
This happened last Sunday at church. (Yes, I went for my brother in law to become ordained to do something or other. I'm supportive, even if I'm confused! And the ceiling did not fall down around my ears, although it creaked menacingly a few times!)
My boys were perfect little gentlemen. Complete with please and thank you and waiting their turn and minding.
I was complimented by the teacher, and all I could do was ask her, "You mean my boys? Are you sure it was my boys?"
Sadly enough, the mother ship returned and took the pod heathens out of the back of my van and returned my normal grumpy, whiny, obstinate children.
If I'd just seen the mother ship approaching, I could have thrown myself over the pod heathens and either kept them or been beamed up with them.
Don't get me wrong. I love my heathens. But I love well behaved heathens and those occasional glimmers of Brady-esque peace and bliss. It is those glimpses that gives me the strength to say for the thousandth time, "Because i said so!" or "You didn't eat your breakfast/lunch/dinner, so no snacks!"
It is those moments, although knocking me on my ass in surprise, that puff me up with self righteous mommy pride.
Although my happy balloon gets popped just moments later.