We Can't Take That Boy Anywhere!

So just when we thought it was safe to take our rambunctious 4.5 year old child out into public without wreaking havoc, we found out we were wrong.

Our Pastor and his wife had us over for lunch on Sunday afternoon. Their table is one of those high tables that has beautiful matching stools, but because there weren't enough seats, an office-style chair was brought in and had to be 'pumped' up to the appropriate height.

Aside from his consistent scattering of their basket full of doggie toys, and his fascination with their La-Z-Boy chairs in the living room (picture a curious young boy cranking the lever on the side to watch the chair open and fold over and over until his negligent very-tired-from-a-youth-group-event-the-night-before parents finally noticed and told him not to touch those chairs again.) Not only were we concerned about damage to the furniture, we were worried about their little dog getting caught inside.

Things went remarkably well until after Judah finished his food. While we adults were still seated at the table talking after the meal, I noticed that Judah was exploring every square inch of their living room, and at one point even came behind us at the table. Part of the reason for this was that he kept tormenting chasing their little toy poodle, and at one point, he even ended up beneath that tall table looking for the dog. No doubt the poor dog was just trying to find one safe place to hide away from the reach of that kid.

Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, our Pastor, who was seated in the office chair, suddenly drops about six inches, very nearly hitting his chin on the table.

"JUDAH!" he said, shocked but already laughing.

Yes, our Judah had spotted a lever on his chair, and because all the chairs in this house seemed to have them he just had to see what this particular one did.

Man, we're never going to get invited anywhere!

And Boy Was Her Face Red!

As a mom, I've always been very careful to try and discourage certain behaviors in my children lest they one day embarrass me themselves in public.

You mom's know exactly what I'm talking about.

It takes a lot of diligence to watch for and train out such undesirable and impolite behaviors as nose-picking, or scratching themselves in inappropriate places, as well as pointing at others or staring in such a way as to make the party being stared at distinctly uncomfortable.

Jeff's dad was a double amputee for the last several years of his life, and so we've paid extra attention in training our children never to stare, point or otherwise make someone with disabilities feel uncomfortable, going to the other extreme of making it a point to make eye contact, smile and show courtesy to folks who have struggles with things that the rest of us take for granted.

Nevertheless, as hard as I have worked on behaviors with my youngest son, my celebration of success was cut short by the next phase of Judah's life.

That phase in which it has become virtually impossible to control what comes out of his mouth.

Four year olds! They see, they think, they blurt out.

At some point after the Terrible Two's, all of the repressed curiosity (repressed because parents worked so hard to distract their children from certain activities lest they make huge messes or get hurt) suddenly shakes loose and comes bubbling up to the surface.

Their earlier lack of satisfied curiosity from hands-on exploration is now manifested by thoughts of, "Why?"

Millions and millions of thoughts of "Why?"

Which result in millions and millions of questions. "Why, mama? Why does da duck have da brwoken wing?" "Why do you go on da grween wight?" "Why do we have skewatens in our bodies?" "Why is da sky bwue?"

You find yourself having to stop and contemplate things you'd probably not thought of in years...at least since you were 3 or 4.

It's as though during this phase that some unseen mechanism is tripped in the small child's brain which renders even the most diligent of parents absolutely helpless to control what their child will blurt out next.

And why is it that the more embarrassing a question, the louder the voice it's asked in?

It doesn't help if you happen to have a child who is overly observant, noticing things that many other children would be completely oblivious to. "Dat man has a doggie in da store!" "Wook, mama, dat wady's haiow is hot pink!"

When these things happen in the general public, like say in Wal*mart, it's usually not so bad. You might cringe for a moment, and perhaps even apologize to the party to whom he was referring, but some of the edge is taken off of the initial embarrassment by virtue of the fact you will likely never see those people again.

It's when these things happen in smaller pockets of the community, places like doctors offices, changing rooms, a persons home or among friends and family that you cringe most, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you and your son.

Like the other day when a dear old gentleman from church met up for lunch with Judah, myself and two teen girls from church.

We were all having a great time, laughing and carrying on, when Judah spilled his drink. I went to the little area in that restaurant where napkins are kept and had just returned to the table when Judah lifted his hand, points, and says loudly enough for even the cook in the back of the restaurant to hear, "Why does Mr. 'Peer have hair grwoween in his ears?"

Mr. 'Peer and the others at the table heard this and thought it hysterically funny, and enjoyed the fact that I turned twenty shades of red.

Which happened because I'd have to see Mr. 'Peer again. It's unavoidable...he's a dear friend and he attends our church!

Judah, of course, thought he was a comedian (having garnered all those laughs) and repeats, "Ha ha...he has hair in his ears!" emphasis placed on certain words for the sake of the girls across the table, before dissolving into totally overdone laughter.

At which point I noticed that the businessmen seated behind us had also heard and were chuckling at my chagrin.

As I always do in such circumstances, I wondered what on earth would prompt such an outburst? And why was he looking at our friends ears, anyway?

My mind rolodexed through every possible thing that might have sparked such an observation...and hit upon what I think might be the culprit.

Judah recently brought home a drinking cup from AWANA with some dirt and seeds in it. We put it in the kitchen window sill, watered it every couple of days and watched with childish delight as the seeds sprouted and grew all the way out of the top of the cup.

How could I have missed the fact that he kept remarking over the fact that plants were 'grwoeen' in a cup (as opposed to in the garden)? "Why, mama? Why are da pwants grwoween in da cup?"

Now I see that he had been trying to make sense of why something that should be growing in the garden was growing in a place so odd as a drinking cup.

And somehow, his knack for never missing even the smallest detail had now picked up on yet another oddity...hair growing in unusual locations.

I fear I shall never stop cringing.

Thanks a lot, Judah. You couldn't have saved that little gem for some random old guy at Lowe's?

Sunday Funnies

Earlier this morning as we were all getting ready for church, Jeff got back from his morning run walk (okay, so he did jog a good part of the way) a bit late and found that I was in the shower in our bathroom.

In the hectic-ness that is our household on Sunday mornings and because of the way our room is situated, I always lock our bedroom door before taking a shower.

Let's just say that I don't want one of our boys busting into the room when I'm getting out of the shower or dressing, because that image would be a heavy load to bear for the rest of their days. Especially if it involves the struggling into putting on of pantyhose. Nobody should ever have to witness that spectacle, which is rather like a butterfly turning back into a caterpillar.

So anyway, Jeff came home, took a look at the clock and realized he'd better get a move on if we were to get to church on time. To hurry things along, he hopped into the shower in the boys bathroom.

While all of this is happening, the phone rings. Now this is a rarity on Sunday mornings, as nearly everyone we know either knows we are heading for church or are there with us.

Jericho picks it up and a male voice asked to speak to his mom or dad.

"Um, my mom is in the shower right now..."

"Oh, well can I speak to your dad?"

"He's in the shower, too."

Awkward pause.

"Uhhhh...okay then. I'll, uh, have to catch them later." Click.

Jeff knocked on the door a few minutes later and came in to tell me about the "telemarketer" call.

We laughed ourselves silly at the thought of some random telemarketer being at a total loss for words after that little exchange, no doubt having gotten a rather risque impression of the state of things in our household.

It wasn't until I was sitting in church later, however, that it occurred to me that Jericho had said he "thought it might be a telemarketer".

Which led to the realization that he wasn't sure.

Which led me to think that there are certain persons in our lives that it would make me blush with embarrassment for the rest of my born days were they the ones who had been on the other end of the line.

People like my dad.

Or (gasp) church members!

Really, there aren't any people we'd exactly want getting that kind of an un-churchlike impression of us, you know?

So there was Jeff, standing up in the pulpit giving the announcements in our Pastor's absence (he was out of town for a conference) when yet another terrible thought occurred to me...

...One that gave me a cringey-sinking feeling and the sensation of a permanent blush on my face:
The very real possibility that it might have been our Pastor that had called.

To add one last-minute thing to the announcements as he's done before while out of town.

Oy, I can barely bear the thought.

The worst part is that there is no relief from the cringing every time I think of it, because there is no way to know for sure who called.

Why, oh why, did I have to be too cheap to add Caller I.D. to our phone plan?