You don't say!

This morning as I was watching the NEWS, I saw a clip of the interior of the church our family attended when the children were small. Seems our old neighborhood has high crime statistics now, and activists had gathered in the church for discussion.

When I saw that railing at the pulpit, I laughed out loud remembering...

Jason was a two year old talkative terror who couldn't sit still during the service. I gave him a quarter to play with, which kept him busy for awhile rolling and dropping it on the pew and carpet. When it was time to take communion, he accompanied me to the railing where we kneeled and waited our turn for the pastor to walk down the line and offer the wafer and wine.

My two year old spoke loud and clear when the pastor stepped in front of us. He slammed his quarter on the railing and said, "Buy my dad a beer."

I almost choked on my own saliva. I swear, his dad only drank an occasional beer while he watered the garden after work, not even one a night.

I swore I'd never go back. Be careful what you swear. I ended up being a teacher in the church preschool, my first teaching job.

My boy's little boy also had a mouth. He came home from 2nd grade and said, "My teacher's going to have her baby any day. She's not nice anymore because she's hormonal."

 
I asked what that meant and he replied, "Meaner than Judge Judy."

The boy is following in his dad's footsteps.