Here's the setting: Church. You know this is going to be good. We walk into sacrament meeting 5 min. early. Which is late for us. In our ward, you arrive 20 min. early, you get a chapel seat toward the back; arrive 10 min. early, you're 1/2 way back in the cultural hall; 5 min. early = 2nd to last row in cultural hall. I seat my darling ducks on our 2nd to last row, and not until the meeting starts, do I notice that for the second time in my parenting history, I have forgotten to comb a son's hair. Not this son.
He's here for another reason.
Get all the cuteness in your head, because as I'm lamenting over D's bath head from the night before, I'm trying to make a plan of attack. Jeff's at work, so I can't leave the baby and/or H&K in the meeting to take Derek out to "finger comb" his hair in the ladies' room, which he'll be thrilled about. He's 6. He doesn't love to go into the GIRL'S BATHROOM, Mom. All the aforementioned children would immediately start crying for me if I left. So I take a deep breath or two, smile, reach over and run my fingers through his hair lovingly. People shouldn't be judging me anyway, so we'll take care of it after the meeting.
The sacrament starts, and besides Halle crying because she tried out many different pieces of bread before she chose hers and got whisper-corrected by Mommy, everything is okay. The water is coming. This above darling duck is a lunger & grabber, so I lay him back on my lap to minimize his range. I forgot he's a kicker. As soon as I pass the water toward Derek, Connor happily kicks the tray out of my hand. ..... I started laughing. What else could I do? You can't ignore the water, as you can on carpet, and just gather up every used & unused cup on the ground (and wash your hands furiously before you're playing Flu Roulette with the drinking cup germs from 25 people in the room), put the tray back together and keep going. No. Neighbors moved chairs back & ran for paper towels, and more paper towels. My arms were full of baby, so I just watched everyone clean up around me. I sat for a while, contemplating not the Atonement, as I should have, but you know, the spectacle. I smiled and breathed. Then, as the children got the twisty crayons & notebooks out after the sacrament, I handed my Connor, the kicker, to my daughter; I gave the once again crying Halle to my neighbor, and I took my D by the hand and my Kierste by the hand, and we walked very calmly to the Ladies' room, where I finger-combed D's handsome hair, and K revealed that she was just joking about needing to be there.
I know. He's cute. He better be.
He's here for another reason.
Get all the cuteness in your head, because as I'm lamenting over D's bath head from the night before, I'm trying to make a plan of attack. Jeff's at work, so I can't leave the baby and/or H&K in the meeting to take Derek out to "finger comb" his hair in the ladies' room, which he'll be thrilled about. He's 6. He doesn't love to go into the GIRL'S BATHROOM, Mom. All the aforementioned children would immediately start crying for me if I left. So I take a deep breath or two, smile, reach over and run my fingers through his hair lovingly. People shouldn't be judging me anyway, so we'll take care of it after the meeting.
The sacrament starts, and besides Halle crying because she tried out many different pieces of bread before she chose hers and got whisper-corrected by Mommy, everything is okay. The water is coming. This above darling duck is a lunger & grabber, so I lay him back on my lap to minimize his range. I forgot he's a kicker. As soon as I pass the water toward Derek, Connor happily kicks the tray out of my hand. ..... I started laughing. What else could I do? You can't ignore the water, as you can on carpet, and just gather up every used & unused cup on the ground (and wash your hands furiously before you're playing Flu Roulette with the drinking cup germs from 25 people in the room), put the tray back together and keep going. No. Neighbors moved chairs back & ran for paper towels, and more paper towels. My arms were full of baby, so I just watched everyone clean up around me. I sat for a while, contemplating not the Atonement, as I should have, but you know, the spectacle. I smiled and breathed. Then, as the children got the twisty crayons & notebooks out after the sacrament, I handed my Connor, the kicker, to my daughter; I gave the once again crying Halle to my neighbor, and I took my D by the hand and my Kierste by the hand, and we walked very calmly to the Ladies' room, where I finger-combed D's handsome hair, and K revealed that she was just joking about needing to be there.
I know. He's cute. He better be.