And What's Inside the Refrigerator?
At our church, the community groups take turns covering childcare. Last night was our group's night, and even though Brandon and I don't have any children, we helped out. I stayed with the younger group (2-4) while Brandon braved the older group (5+). There were about four adults with each group, including ourselves.
Brandon escaped the younger group at nearly the same moment I realized that I could keep the kids completely mesmerized by bubbles. Miracle bubbles! And they're non-toxic, which means they're good for eating. And as soon as I'd stop, one of the cutest little cherubs with big brown eyes would look at me and say, "bubbahs?" And I'd be like, oh my gosh, if that makes you happy I will blow bubbles until I pass out from lack of oxygen. If I act this way for little kids I've known for 15 minutes, do you have any idea how spoiled my own kids will be? Maybe my heart isn't completely composed of tar.
When a small boy with blond hair toddled up to me looking all cute and handed me a pop-up book to read to him, I couldn't resist. Other little kids observed for a bit to see if this was going to be worth giving up their game of bumper-tractors. They were too young to have attention spans big enough for the actual text, so I improvised. Here is proof that I have no experience whatsoever with children. I actually said, "And that's a hippo. Did you know that hippos kill more humans in a year than crocodiles? Well they do!" Thankfully I was with the younger group, and was met with the same blank stares accompanied by more pawing and tearing at the raised animals.
And then my cute little friend who loved bubbahs went and soiled herself. I was getting a poopy vibe from her, so I asked a more seasoned veteran what to do. Check the diaper. Right, um, and she'll be cool with that? Just pull it back and look inside. Um, I can't tell. It's dark in there. Here, I'll - oh wow, definitely poopy. So since I'm practically retarded when it comes to things of children, I got a real adult to help me with the poopy diaper removal project.
I overheard one of the other adults reading to a little boy, and as he pulled out tabs he asked what was behind the door, behind the tree, behind the window.
"And what's in the refrigerator?"
The kid exclaimed, "BEER!"
I like being presbyterian.
Brandon escaped the younger group at nearly the same moment I realized that I could keep the kids completely mesmerized by bubbles. Miracle bubbles! And they're non-toxic, which means they're good for eating. And as soon as I'd stop, one of the cutest little cherubs with big brown eyes would look at me and say, "bubbahs?" And I'd be like, oh my gosh, if that makes you happy I will blow bubbles until I pass out from lack of oxygen. If I act this way for little kids I've known for 15 minutes, do you have any idea how spoiled my own kids will be? Maybe my heart isn't completely composed of tar.
When a small boy with blond hair toddled up to me looking all cute and handed me a pop-up book to read to him, I couldn't resist. Other little kids observed for a bit to see if this was going to be worth giving up their game of bumper-tractors. They were too young to have attention spans big enough for the actual text, so I improvised. Here is proof that I have no experience whatsoever with children. I actually said, "And that's a hippo. Did you know that hippos kill more humans in a year than crocodiles? Well they do!" Thankfully I was with the younger group, and was met with the same blank stares accompanied by more pawing and tearing at the raised animals.
And then my cute little friend who loved bubbahs went and soiled herself. I was getting a poopy vibe from her, so I asked a more seasoned veteran what to do. Check the diaper. Right, um, and she'll be cool with that? Just pull it back and look inside. Um, I can't tell. It's dark in there. Here, I'll - oh wow, definitely poopy. So since I'm practically retarded when it comes to things of children, I got a real adult to help me with the poopy diaper removal project.
I overheard one of the other adults reading to a little boy, and as he pulled out tabs he asked what was behind the door, behind the tree, behind the window.
"And what's in the refrigerator?"
The kid exclaimed, "BEER!"
I like being presbyterian.
