Paint and Cub Scouts

For my church, I was asked a couple years ago to be an assistant leader for the Bear Den. Yes, for all those who are as clueless as I was, that is a part of the Cub Scouting program for 9 year-old boys. These past couple years have truly tested my patients. Growing up in a family full of girls, little boys are quite foreign to me. I think this calling in the church has helped me know what I have to look forward to with Peter. Sigh.
Today, the other leader, Heidi, had planned an activity for the Cub Scouts to paint some ornaments. Sure, it seemed simple and innocent enough when we started, but by the end of the hour there was paint on their clothes, floor, and even on one cub scouts lips. They had a great time! After 1 hour, it was time for the boys to go home. There was one kink in the process, however: their ornaments were not quite dry. As the good leaders we are, Heidi and I held their ornaments while they bundled up in their coats (getting ready for their walk home). We gave them their ornaments and told them to be careful. As the last boy left, Heidi and I gave a sigh of relief as we vowed to ban paint from all other den meetings. About 20 seconds later we hear, "I've got paint on my coat!" Both of us, armed with wipes in hand, quickly scrub the paint off, hoping to avoid angry mothers for staining winter clothes. No sooner had he left, when the whole process was repeated again!
Finally, after cleaning everything up, I step outside to get into my car when I hear one of the boys yell out, "Hey guys, hop in and get a ride!" My inside voice yelled, "not in my car with wet paint you don't!", but for some reason a weak smile appeared instead.
As they all piled in, ornaments were, yes, dropped, and yes, I had to scrub more paint out of the same boys coat for the third time before we were able to take off. It was yet another adventure, as always, at our weekly den meetings.

A Baby for Christmas

Our family waited in anticipation last Saturday morning, especially Peter, for 10:00 when Santa was making a personal appearance at a pavilion in our little town. As we watched the time go by, I asked Peter, "What are you going to tell Santa you want for Christmas?"
Peter responded, "A Baby."
Well, this was news to me! I tried to clarify, saying, "You mean, like a brand new baby in our home?"
"No MOM, I'm not talking about that!" he impatiently said (Whew!).
So, try as he may, I couldn't quite get what he was talking about. However, 10:00 came and a bit later we eventually made it out the door to visit Santa. Santa, who even knew Peter's name, asked him what he wanted for Christmas. Peter responded, "Baby Jesus". Ahhh. You know, those are the moments that make this job called Parenting worth it.