Sunday was the usual morning of Mass followed by CCD.
Followed by let’s take Jenny for a ride so she falls asleep.
Followed by since she’s asleep, let’s run a few errands. But unfortunately, the 2 places we went did not have anything we needed. At least I had plenty of time to read the Sunday bulletin and the Operation Rice Bowl calendar the kids got at CCD. And Jenny and the baby had naps.
Followed by let’s go home and relax. Which we did. The kids played indoors and outdoors. Most of the afternoon we had the proper quota of children in our house – they just weren’t the right ones.
And the best part of the day came at evening when “The Big Man” came to dinner. TBM was supposed to come to dinner a few weeks ago, but canceled at the last minute. Dad had told the kids about TBM, a friend of his from work. He’s a pretty big guy. The kids could not wait to meet him. They were extremely disappointed when he didn’t come that last time. But Sunday night he came, he ate my stew and fruit salad and homemade rolls and declared them delicious. Of course, when one is a bachelor, any home cooking is likely delicious. But anyone who wants to come over and praise my cooking is welcome any time.
TBM is a nice guy. And although we are all special in the eyes of God, he’s not really any more special than the rest of us. My kids, though, absolutely love to have guests over. They think that guests are brought in strictly for their own entertainment.
When I was a kid, my siblings and I couldn’t wait to be excused if guests were over. Adults were boring. They sat around and talked. They asked annoying questions about schoolwork and hobbies. Catching their attention was dangerous. One might be expected to perform. We avoided being anywhere near them and preferred to go play. I don’t ever remember my mother even having to ask us to go outside or to another room because we were noisy.
My kids have not yet figured out that adults are boring. They think adults are very interesting. They can’t wait to see what kind of an adult might be coming over. If the adult is a woman, she might be given a bit more respect. In other words, my kids won’t generally jump on a woman as a way of saying hi, unless you happen to be Aunt Margaret. If you are a male guest, one of the boys will tests the waters by shooting at you with a toy gun with pretend bullets. If that gesture of hospitality is met with amusement, you next might be assailed with a volley of projectiles. Again, if the reaction is one of amusement, within minutes you could expect to be fully assaulted. And the girls will alternate between sitting on your lap and pulling your hair.
Fortunately, TBM likes kids and is an uncle of kids roughly the same age. I suppose I should be happy that my kids can relate to adults so well. Er, as long as the adult is fully capable of functioning at a juvenile level! But every now and then, adults, I’m sure, would prefer to just sit and do boring things like talk. At least, I would!