Lost: A Sense of Proportion

One of the younger girls at church today, on discovering how old I am, promptly informed me that I need to find a husband. She then went on to tell me that she knows exactly how to go about it.

According to her, what I should do is this: find a guy, trip over him, say that I broke my ankle, and then... he'll ask me to marry him. She knows that this works, because she saw it in a movie. She also offered to give me a list of guys I could try it with, if I need some ideas.

Apparently I've been really over-complicating things, all these years.

Was watching a movie last night, which just happened to have a dog in it... a dog named Captain.

As if my poor puppy wasn't fascinated enough by TV already. Now the people on TV are calling his name, and he would be happy to obey, really he would, only how is he supposed to come to them?

*pats excited, confused puppy*

I love my Sunday School kids so much.

I've probably mentioned at some point that Nef and I have been teaching the youngest class at our church for some years now. Technically, it's supposed to be 3-5-year-olds, but in practice it's more like 2-6, depending on where individual children are at, and who wants to stay with their siblings.

Yesterday, one of the youngest girls, L. - who is, I think, not quite three yet, but quite precocious and enthusiastic about participating - was having a difficult time focusing. She's definitely in that stage of being terribly excited over dressing up in her nice clothes, and was excited about some new things she had, and so felt the need to burst out at regular intervals with things like, "Do you see my sparkly necklace?" (which her parents had just given her on Valentine's Day), "I'm wearing a pretty dress!", "Lookit my sparkly shoes!" and "I have a sparkly necklace!" Naturally, I reminded her that during class time we need to focus and only talk about the lesson - at which she would settle down for a few more minutes. It just mildly amusing, the sort of thing that happens all the time in the course of teaching little ones to sit still and listen for the length of a lesson. Until...

At the end of each lesson, I ask the children what they've learned, to make sure that at least the key point has gotten across and see what things stuck out to them. It was at that point that L. earnestly announced her discovery - "God isn't sparkly."

Well. Um. I'm glad that my reminders that her pretty, sparkly objects were not related to the current lesson sunk in?