November 15, 2005

Scenes from Sunday

It's 8:30 a.m. and for once the Big Arm family unit has managed to make it to the early service more or less on time. There is another service at 9:00 a.m. but it features drums and my nerves simply cannot take that sort of cacophony at that time of morning. So, 8:30 it is.

The Boy sits next to me, spit-shined and clean in a sweater, slacks and brand new $1.99 Star Wars watch from Burger King, featuring Yoda and Count Dooku. To say that this watch is his most prized possession EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE would be a sad understatement. To say that he knows how to tell time would also, alas, be untrue. But I did show him how to differentiate between the hours and the minutes, so he's got that part down. Unfortunately.

My church experience went like this:

Boy: (leans over, "whispering," which, as you know, is not really possible from a 4 year old boy who ate powdered sugar donuts for breakfast) Mommy! It is eight three nine!

Me: That's nice, son.

Boy: Mommy! It's eight four zero!

Me: Yes, son. Shh.

Boy: Mommy! It's eight four one!

Me: It's communion time. Let me explain "intinction"--if you drop the bread in the cup, DO NOT stick your hand down there to pick it out. Just let it go and move on.

Boy: It's eight four five!

Me: Great.

Church continued in that vein, with no major intinction trauma. Later that evening, the Boy was getting his final ya-yas out by alternately running laps around the chairs and leaping from the sofa. Yes, I let him do these things. Why? Because it makes him tired, and that is a good thing.

So he was leaping from the sofa and decided to add a spin. Unfortunately, he spun forward instead of sideways and did a neat airborne somersault, landing on his butt. He stood up, looking surprised.

"Are you okay, son?" I asked, and he nodded, but I noticed that he didn't jump right back on the sofa, so I held out my arms and he came over to me.

"Mom, that was kind of scary," he said.

"I'll bet," I replied. And then he pulled away.

"Can I wear my Star Wars watch to bed?"

Posted by Big Arm Woman at November 15, 2005 11:38 AM

The ``First Strike'' lightning detector would be more fun in church.

``But it's not a cell phone. It's a lightning detector.''

Posted by: Ron Hardin at November 16, 2005 02:12 PM