There was a time when people wanted to force me to go to church every Sunday (part of this whole get-cash-at-confirmation thingie), and my father went to the extreme to get up early, drive me to church, and wait until I waved goodbye. He did not go as far as accompanying me, he wasn't masochistic enough, though.
What I told him about five years later was that instead of suffering through that whole shit, I would turn around, walk to the museum for local history, pay 1.50 DM, and spend my time in a warm environment looking at exhibits of what our town had looked like 900 years ago, then stroll back to have him pick me up at church after service. He laughed his ass off.
Needless to say my knowledge of medieval history had improved exponentially by the time of my confirmation. Still have a hard time to remember as much as the first three verses of the Pater Noster.