Today is Sunday. As on most every Sunday, we piled in the van and headed off to church. Today was different. Daddy wasn’t along because he was out of town. Ok. So this should really be no big deal. Before Daddy was an assistant pastor, I wrestled with 3 small children for about 6 years by myself in the pew every Sunday.
However, number 4 was never around in those days. Number 4 is cute. She is also the BABY, and she knows it. There is great indignation when I correct her. So today, whe was super wiggly and just a tad loud while playing with her little doll during the sermon. So I took the doll away and made her big sister put away her dolls, too. No dolls to play with or make noise with, that’s ok. Number 4 is resourceful. She can make a ruckus by moving from one seat to another or throwing her head into my chest when she sits on my lap. Then I thought, “I’ll give her the nice quiet Teddy Bear. She’ll hold it quietly and sit nicely on my lap while she cuddles with it.” What kind of drugs was I on when that thought went through my mind? Did she sit nicely on my lap and cuddle sweetly with the Teddy Bear? Oh no. She started tossing it in the air. Before I could get control of the situation, the bear landed in the lap of the girl behind us. Thankfully, that girl was our senior pastor’s teenage daughter, and their whole family thought this antic was funny.
After another 10 minutes or so of her wiggling around and moving from place to place, the sermon finally ended. I breathed a big sigh of relief, and we headed to the fellowship hall where wiggling and giggling and talking are acceptable behaviors.