My boy always makes me laugh. He caught me here after church this morning. Every other month, my best friend Sarah and I "teach" a little class of 3-year-olds (and by teach I mean we keep them alive and we get to catch up. Stay calm, everyone, Jesus gets His due diligence in there. But let's not forget that they are three.)
This picture of me laughing sets the tone for the day and for this series of tales I've woven together with the common theme of "this happened today" or "I thought about it this afternoon" and they all made me laugh.
The day obviously began with the Lord's work. One of our best moments in this class happened last year. A gorgeous little blonde sweetie was always very quiet and content to play peacefully. She was potty-training, as were her comrades among the blocks and playdoh. As sometimes happens, a smell began to creep through the room. Sarah and I turned to the darling fair-haired gem in the corner. After some coaxing, I took her into the bathroom, which adjoins the classroom. As I checked for the culprit of the stink, a turd the size of a softball plopped out onto the floor.
Sarah heard me gasp.
How could such a thing come out of this tiny human? It was a Sunday School bathroom miracle...of sorts. I did what I had to do to rectify the situation and reported the Biblical poop to my fellow educator.
The following week, it was business as usual. Beautiful toddler, nose-curdling stench. This time, Sarah took a turn at toilet duty. Moments passed. Sarah and her charge emerged from the bathroom and I looked at Sarah expectantly.
"Golf ball," she reported.
_______
After church, we headed to our weekly lunch date with my folks. Dad had made a delightful and unexpected choice of a new deli in town which has received rave reviews and just happens to be housed in our local wine center (again, love the Baptist irony.) Unfortunately, we arrived to find it closed on Sunday. Even more unfortunate was that the closed deli is located next door to my arch-nemesis and Drew's favorite (gag) spot, Red Lobster.
Grace and I have effectively poo-pooed (no pun intended) this icky chain restaurant for several weeks. But today, hungry and in spitting distance of it, with Drew's hopeful face urging us on, we acquiesced.
We walked in and the foolish hostess offered my stout little man with the big man appetite a kid's menu. Drew put up his hand politely, shaking his head at the thought of the small portions and kiddie puzzles featured on such a menu.
We proceeded to our booth, and Drew proceeded to order the largest platter of fried varieties of fish available. Apparently, he saw this a rare opportunity to belly up to big Red's table, so he went for the yacht-sized platter of golden grade-D fish.
As Drew tackled the feast before him, Grace managed about half of her shrimp linguini. Drew observed his sister's plate, between his own crunchy bites.
"You aren't going to finish yours, Grace? You see," he explained, "you just have to really put your gut into it, and you can finish."
Isn't that the textbook definition of perseverance? I thought, as he bulldozed his way through his platter. If you really believe you can eat it, by God, you can.
_______
This afternoon I lunched (lunch #2, and light years more tasty: smoked salmon on rye with caviar, pommes frites perfectly seasoned, a divine concoction of greens, raspberries and strawberries called a "love salad") with one of my all-time faves and former student, Philip Steven Verlee (see "The Wait's Over).
The quote of the day came when he reported that he would turn 30 just weeks after his September 1 wedding. "Thank God," he explained, "30 is the gay 90."
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