On Monday afternoons I go to my small group at church. We read a spiritually enriching book and have a discussion about it, thus enriching our own spirituality. Well. We try to discuss it over the noise of about 5-10 toddlers. It works some of the time. My spirituality has been enriched somehow, so I am calling it a win. What isn't a win is that Monday is back-to-back activity from about 7:30-3, with kindergarten, preschool, taking Awkward Dad to and from his morning work-site with the sketchy yet somehow expensive parking garage that he refuses to use, and small group. It is my errand morning, as I only have 1 child for 2 hours of it, so, naturally, I try to jam in grocery shopping, banking, post office, mall visits, and any errands that involved actually leaving the car. Those of you who have children and/or pets that travel with you will totally understand the urgency here.
The end result of this is that Monday tends to be an eat-in-the-car day. Sometimes I am awesome and actually pack food for us, but most of the time I am awkward and we end up eating fast food for lunch. I am not proud of it, but there it is. Today, we stopped at Subway in between picking up Awkward Dad and swinging by the house to drop him off so he could get his own car. He was going to his afternoon work-site with the nice and totally free parking lot that he has no problems with. I drop him off and head over to church to get set up for the small group. While I am not in charge, I am the one responsible for getting the keys out and opening up the nursery, which is where we meet.
As I pull into the church parking lot, I realize that Super Preschooler is still eating half of a turkey sandwich. He is the slowest eater in creation (when he deigns to eat at all, that is), so I should have predicted that the car ride from Subway to the house would not be enough time for him to even make a dent in it. Super Toddler and Super Kindergartener eat like they are in prison, so they were finished about the time we hit that red light 2 blocks from Subway, Awkward Dad was brushing crumbs off himself when I left him at his car, and I have given up eating until Super Toddler's nap around 3pm (she steals it otherwise). Therefore, he was the only one still eating. We often eat in the nursery, so this was not a big deal. I pulled them out of the car and headed inside.
Seems that I forgot that the keys for the nursery are actually in a drawer in the ushers' room. And the ushers' room is in the actual church. 3 children in the actual church on Sunday are no big deal. 3 children in the actual church in the middle of Monday sound like a herd of elephants. And there is always someone praying in there to disrupt and offend. I take a deep breath and prepare to be offensive. The kids are actually very quiet during this part; I have prepped them well and we are in there for a total of 15 seconds at the most, so I am not too worried. We troop in, with my usual directives to "shush" and "be quiet in God's house." They are as quiet as church mice (punny Awkward Mom!). I slip into the ushers' room and grab the keys, which proceed to make more noise rattling around in my hand than a herd of toddlers and elephants.
I pop back out to shoo the children downstairs to see them clustered around the notoriously low and tempting baptismal font. Super K. is dutifully making the sign of the cross with the holy water, as he has been practicing at school. Super Toddler is hauling one leg up the side, as if readying herself for a restorative dip. But Super Preschooler. Of course, Super Preschooler is bracing himself on the side with his right hand, holding his sandwich aloft, now mysteriously dripping, in the left hand, while he laps up holy water like a dog.
Me: Stop it! Stop it! What are you doing?
Super K.: What? Is it the other way? This is the way they taught me to at school.
Me: Not you, Sweetie. That was perfect. Super Toddler, get down!
Super T.: No! Swim! Jesus!
Me: No swimming with Jesus. Get down. Super Preschooler, stop it! Don't drink that! There is a water fountain downstairs. Did you put your sandwich in there?!?!?!
Super P.: (shrugging, smiling, and shaking the extra water off himself like a dog) Sure did. It was a little dry.
He has a point; there is nothing quite as evil as a dry sandwich. Guess he just trusts God to fix stuff like that.
I can't stay mad at that face,
and I doubt that God is ever mad at that face.