Not Exactly, Meggie

I was changing a display on our walls, and a few of the kids asked me what I was doing. My standard response whenever they ask me what I’m doing is: “What do you think I’m doing?” because they usually know, they just want to make conversation, and it gets them using their expressive language.
So when Meggie looked at me and said “What are you doing?” I said, “What do you think I’m doing?”

She thought about it for a second, and said, “You’re up there so we can’t reach you.”
I nearly fell off my ladder for laughing. Guess she would have reached me then!

Puritans and Philistines

On the way to prayer I spent some time reading a book on the puritans. They’re interesting, and underrated (even if difficult reads) .

So I got there and people wanted to know what I was reading. I would just flash them the cover, then go back to the book.

Shaun looked at it and asked, “Who are the puritans?”

I explained that they were the English Reformers who strove for greater purity within the church and their personal lives, and sought to bring all aspects of living under the command of Scripture.

I also said that if someone calls you a puritan now days, they probably don’t mean it as a compliment. They mean that you’re a killjoy.

“So they’re different from the Philistines then?”

New Lego Play-Set - UK Edition

Matches and petrol sold separately, Facebook and Twitter accounts not included.









Thanks Step for emailing them to me.

Thanks Keith

Because of the KFC Father's Day item, I come into the main service late, so I get to hang out at the back of the church. Just like school, the back of the hall is where all the dodgies hang out. I fit right in.

When communion came round, Keith (head of all dodginess) said that we should go forward and make sure they didn't miss us. I think he's been missed before. I, on the other hand, have been at the back for a few weeks and have not been missed once. I guess the communion servers realise that I need all the help I can get.

Besides, I'm allergic to half of the communion, and I told Keith so.

"Yeah, I bet it's not the cup. You'd never be giving that up."

At Least I'm Still A Mammal

After corporate prayer, I was chatting to Y-Kong. In the conversation, I mentioned that I was a moody cow.

"Huh?"

Kal and I then explained to him that this is a general insult for moody people, particularly moody females.

He looked at me and said, "Well, I got the moody bit. But not the cow bit. I mean, you look much more like a rabbit."

Zoe and her Music

One of the most important things that I do is that I refuse to play kids music at work. The Toddler room is a Wiggles-free zone. We play real music to the kids. And they start developing preferences pretty soon.

So when I came in I went to put on some music. I asked Zoe wha she wanted. "Gee."

"Beatles or Fleetwood Mac?"

"Or Gee."

"We could have the Everley Brothers."

"Or Gee for Kids."

"The Beatles are really cool."

"Gee for Kids."

"Fine, we'll put on Glee."


Next week, I gave her the choice of Beatles or Fleetwood Mac again. "Gee?"

"No Glee today. I don't feel like Glee."

Zoe thought about it, then made her choice. "Beatles." So they went on.

As she usually does, Zoe stood in the home-corner where the CD player was and listened for a moment. Then she looked at me and sighed, "It's wonderful."

Car! Car!

I came into work today, and was, as usual, greeted by several of the children, including Thalia. The rest soon went back to their activities, but Thalia didn't. She looked at me and said, "Car, car!"

"Honey, you know I catch the bus."

"Car! Car!"

Then she grabbed my legs, and started lifting up my skirt.

Now, the good thing about childcare is it's pretty much all females as far as the adults go. And I wear stockings AND leggings under my skirt. But it's still disconcerting to have your skirt lifted by a two year old. So I told her to quit it.

"Car, car!" Thalia insisted.

"No, that is my skirt, not a car, and you don't lift up a girl's skirt. It's bad manners."

I walked away from her, putting away some of the things I had brought in from home. And I felt something banging at the back of my thighs. I twisted around, and saw this flash of red metal.

One of them had attached a toy car to my skirt!

I cut it off and gave it to Thalia, appologising, who promptly took the car. It was what she wanted anyway.

Well, it was an interesting start to the morning.

That Explains It

The children often tell me where their parents are. "My daddy's at work," is obviously the most common one. But sometimes we get some surprises...

Thalia looked at me and told me that her daddy was at work.

"Oh, and where's your mummy?" I asked.

"She's shopping."

Jude then told me that his daddy was at work, "making money". Thalia said, "My daddy's got money."

"Oh, who else has got money in your family."

"Me. And my doggy."

"What about your mummy?" I asked.

"No," said Thalia, like I was some kind of crazy. "My mummy goes shopping."

Another 9, and I'll have my 20...

Most people know that I want 20 children. Yes, I accept I'm mad, but I do. I don't expect for all of these kids to be bio kids - I always wanted to adopt, from before I was 10.

But I recently aquired another sponsor kids.

I was at Chadestone, getting some baskets for work, when this random African guy came up to me, grabbed me by the arm, and said: "If you sponsor a child, will you feel good? Yes! You will feel good!"

Well, who's going to argue with that?

I now have a girl called Judy from Malawi through Plan.

Poor Joash. He's my only boy.

Next time I'm accosted by people in a shopping centre I'll ask for a boy. Because who can argue with feeling good?

How to Pick Up Jane...

Michelle and I are in charge of the bookstall. This makes for occasional odd conversations, because Michelle is slightly odd, and I'm... well... mad (this is Sam-Is-Mad, after all).

So we were standing there, not really selling books, when Michelle brought out her favourite book and forbade me to sell it. Because the author (who appeared on the cover) was so hot.

I looked at her as though she was mad. Because that author was not hot.

"Besides Michelle, isn't that a wedding ring on his finger?"

"So?"

She flipped open the book and noticed it's dedication: to Anna.

"Who is this Anna?" she asked indignantly.

"I'm guessing it's his wife," I said.

"But he's so good looking," complained Michelle.

Jane, who was browsing the books, consoled Michelle. "It's alright. The boys I think are cutest are married."

"Jane!" I said. I was shocked. I mean, Michelle and I are not leaders at church. I mean, I'm not even JG. Jane is a leader (I think).

"Who?" Michelle wanted to know.

"Steven Curtis Chapman and Jim Eliott," she said.

"Jim Eliott is not only married, he's dead. And he wasn't even that good looking when he was alive."

"He was definitely the best looking out of the Ecuadorian martyrs. The others just weren't that good looking. So I like him best."

Oddly enough, that entirely made sense to me.