THIS is what happens when you combine two families worth of traditions, and let your own four children help you with the menu ...
(At least they know the stories that go with each item, and the justifications for letting them choose items. And its not like I'll have to cook again for a few days!)
It's entirely possible I've underestimated the influence attending a Catholic school will have on the boys. On one boy in particular.
Last Sunday, when we met up after Sunday School at our conservative Southern Baptist chuch, one of my boys was particularly animated. Giddy, in fact. Thrilled beyond belief. Joy rolling off him in waves. While this is what you hope for in a profound religious experience, in reality its a rare sight in 9 year-old boys regardless of the religion espoused.
Apparently, the lesson was on the situations facing the Rich Man and the Poor Man. To reinforce this point, the teacher had each child (which turned out to be a class full of only boys that day) decorate a pair of wooden clothes-pins like a small Rich Man and a small Poor Man. I think this was supposed to remind the children of the story later. Then the teacher attached a key-ring to the head of the "little people" (which we all know were "dolls" but aren't allowed to say to a room full of small boys) so that the boys could hook them on things, like a back-pack maybe.
(Note to World: She is a WONDERFUL teacher with many SPECTACULAR ideas, and we are DELIGHTED beyond measure that she is their teacher! Its just that she has only girls at home. Fortunately, she's a quick learner with mad skillz. The boys have already expressed extreme interest in getting her to teach the next higher Sunday School next year when they have to move up. )
So there I was, after Sunday School, nodding and smiling, with a boy waving and flailing his arms in excitement as he babbled about his Sunday School lesson.
Thats when things took an ... odd ... turn.
Sometimes we're a bit of a surprise for a new babysitter. I mean, sure, I have rules. But I don't expect them to clean my house. In my world, its their job to keep the children safe (and content, if feasible). Thats it. If I come home and everyone is safe, they've done a good job! And we pay well. And our children don't bite. I've actually had a baby-sitter tell me "I can't believe I got paid for this."
But ...
(Here's a quickie because there's no point in having a blog if I don't post. Regular posting will commence on Monday. Or not.)
Samantha called me, already laughing, yesterday. Which was nice. The following might be how the conversation went:
(Oh, and let me preface it with ... I do NOT believe in the accuracy of horoscopes and astrology. I consider the possibility that the impact of the moon on earth-gravity might vaguely subtlely influence personality developement during the third trimester. Consider how weird it is that the moon impacts the tides, and that there's a definite spike in delivery rates during full-moons which might suggest that the moon/gravity can affect hormones.)
Seriously, I am sitting here stifling my laughs. Having been on both sides of the Catholic/Protestant thing, I find this hysterical.