Adventures In Sunday School Land

Of course, it had to happen.
As of this week, I do have The Kid.
Ya know him, ya love him -- you've had him in choir, or in gym, or at a family reunion until which you didn't know your cousin had spawned, or standing in front of you in line at Walmart making the most of the musical capacities of flatulence.

He is the one who never heard a rude noise he didn't enjoy, never accepted anything he was told on first hearing, never found an object with which he couldn't make noise or poke into his nearest classmate, never touched a book he was not tempted to tear, and never gave any adult a moment's peace.

My assignment, should I choose to accept it, is to love him.

And on the other hand, I don't have to take him home with me. One of my colleagues not only has an unruly class, several years ago she apparently gave birth to a Tasmanian devil, a girl not old enough for school but who, unfortunately,is of an age to be able to walk, and who, anyone who has ever babysat will know, the mother has no choice but to bring to class because no one else in their right mind would take custody of the imp. (Pause to offer up a prayer for all such mothers, who, see? are not limited to those with boys.)

ON THE OTHER HAND FROM THAT ONE, (that third hand I keep in reserve for just such occasions,) - this is the only group of kids I've ever had where all of them, or most of the boys at least, did not snicker every time I said the word "love."

(Which, as you can imagine, comes up a lot in catechesis.)

So, on balance, a good Sunday.