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Kara and I had a nice day yesterday delivering some furniture to one of my many sisters. The way to her house takes me by those signs along US31 in Westfield, Indiana, that say Native Plant Restoration Project.
Native plants? That means a weed patch. A weed patch runs right down the center of that fancy highway through Westfield, Indiana.
Maybe I should get into the Native Plant Restoration business. I can grow weeds.
Today in church, between shushing my children and the...
Well, I have to explain. Try as I might to make a little gentleman out of my son, he can still manage to play turtle with his clothing in the middle of church while I'm engrossed in becoming more like Jesus.
I feel less like Jesus when I turn and see a shirt, with no head attached to it, where my son should be.
Then I remember the silent ways I amused myself in church when I was his age. I'd like to think I was more grown up then, except I remember too many times being anything but.
Our family was big enough that there was always a baby around. Our church had no staffed nursery or children's church on Sundays.
If we got tired of sitting through the sermon, we could just give the baby a little pinch, the baby would cry, then we could take the baby to the lobby, and eat dry Cheerios with him--Cheerios being the best church food for squirmy babies.
As a kid, it's a sly move. Now as a mom, I realize my parents knew our tricks all along, they just were enjoying a few minutes of peace during the sermon.
Other games involved various counting, skip-counting, multiplication, and division of the lights and ceiling tiles in that large room.
There was also the praying game. That's where you just need a little wink of sleep, so you bow your head over your knees, shoulders supported by elbows on knees, hands folded piously, then just sleep away.
This game was tricky, though, because if the sleep became too deep, there was a chance of rolling forward or sideways and completely blowing the illusion of praying.
There's also the count-the-flowers-on-that-lady's-blouse game.
Or the hold-your-nose-and-mouth-then-blow-as-hard-as-you-can game. That's good for forcing tears out of the tear ducts and bringing on a headache.
There were countless games with paper. Throwing paper airplanes was a big no-no, though.
There's the game where you repeat the sermon in your head, just in any accent you wish.
So, I started saying what church was about today, then got sidetracked by thinking of all the ways I'm not surprised my children act like I did when I was their age.
I reprimand them as I laugh to myself.
Then I think that someday they'll be parents and see that they never really tricked me at all.