Go To Prom! Get To Church!

Dear Hubby, my John,  and I were teenagers when we first met  at Junior Achievement.  Junior Achievement was an organization, or kind of club, sponsored by local businesses that got kids together in groups of about 15 to create a company complete with product, production, selling, and management like a president and a treasurer.

John, back then, had almost blonde curly hair to his shoulders, and would pal around with two other boys always smiling and laughing and willing to participate in whatever was going on.

One of his pals asked me to a sock hop dance.  We liked each other but never really wanted to date after that, no romantic spark.

His friend suggested that John take me to prom.  He even joined John’s mom  in her push.  She was a “no ifs, ands, or buts about it” kind of lady,  She told him,  “You WILL go to prom.”  and promptly made a trunkload of snacks for the after prom trip to Kings Island!

******

Before prom, my family and I came home to find John “just a-swinging” on our front porch.  We said we were sorry but we couldn't stop to visit because we were headed to Wednesday night church meeting.  “You can come along.”  

“I can’t, in these blue jeans and tennis shoes,” And he slightly kicked up one shoed foot as evidence.

“Nobody cares, it doesn’t matter to anyone, just come on and go.”  And he did.  Our church is very humble, and seriously, nobody cared.  We're all friendly down-to-earth people.

Outside the church, on the sidewalk, Deacon JP made him feel welcome – patted him on the back while introducing himself.  Inside the church, Uncle Carl made him feel welcome, too.  It was a friendly moment he retells fondly.

He and I walked down the aisle.  Since he was new I picked the seat, right side, halfway up.   I guess he was expecting the family to sit with us.

Here I must tell you that I have 2 sisters, and 3 brothers, besides my mother, and father.  My father was a big boned man -- about 6 foot tall with big hands, all muscle, and deep voice.  His wedding ring would circle a quarter.  He would never hit us, he said, because he could cold cock us,  knock us out with one blow.  It was true; we believed him.  

Down the aisle Dad kept walking.

John watched as Dad didn't sit with the family, he walked all the way up the aisle, stepped past the podium, and sat down in the bishop’s seat.

John got bug-eyed, and shocked, “I’m dating the preacher’s daughter!”

Busing Kids, Stories Three!

Kay, 1st grader, big sis to Drew, came up to sit in the front seat on Darling Hubby's bus.  The kids have assigned seating but she asked permission to sit behind the bus driver because her buddy Jane wasn't there that day.  That put her near her little kindergarten brother with whom she doesn't get along.  

Little brother, Drew, stands up so Darling Hubby, the bus driver, can hear him.  He announces loudly, "My big sister's in juvie."   Of course, he means she's in a detention center for juvenile delinquents.

Immediately, Kay raises her voice in outrage, "You're not supposed to tell!  Now, the bus driver and the whole bus knows.  Mom told you not to tell!"

These two are something else.

Drew, Kay's little brother later tells Darling Hubby, "I had a good breakfast.  And coffee."

Just like before, Kay set the record straight, "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"  "Mom and Dad don't let you drink coffee!"

John, Darling Hubby, says, "Drew, you look like an OJ and milk guy to me."
Drew concurs, "I eat healthy.  I like water, too."

Then his friend, Toby, sitting nearby tells Drew, "I have an extra Dr. Pepper, you want one?"  "Sure," replies Drew with excitement.

John, with twinkling blue eyes, responds, "Drew!  I thought you liked water!"

Drew turns to Toby with decisiveness, "You can keep your Dr. Pepper!"

John tells me, "Loyalty doesn't go past his little lips."

John, 2nd year bus driver, now carries a bag of many bags!  Why?  Because this one Wednesday he only had 6 barf bags but 8 sick kids, so you can imagine the mess.  

That afternoon he was steam cleaning his bus because of throwing up sick kids...well, he was swinging the wand of steam from left to right on the floor and accidentally went across his right big toe!  Oh no!  Immediately, a big blister raised on top, and a bigger blister raised on the tip of his toe.  

The bus was such a mess that two bus barn mechanics came out and lifted the front end up.  This let DH hose it ALL out the back door!!!!

His bus was infamous for a week!  

Not A Boo Boo

What a mess!  

Down the hall there's a bathroom, and 2 spare rooms one of which has been lightly peppered with kid toys.  The walls have the grandkids handprints on them.  There's a few toys on a bottom bookshelf.  And tucked under the bed is a ball pit.

The ball pit is a cloth fold away container (construction much like a springy fold up kids tunnel).  The ball pit's about 3 feet across and is full of little plastic red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and pink balls.  Gobs of them!

This had been a favored toy EVERY time toddlers come over.  Clean up time includes retrieving every one of those little balls that has been pitched with glee out of the pit.  It's safe and it keeps them entertained for hours.  They think its funny to hide other toys amongst the balls.  And they try to slide into the pit from nearby furniture before getting quickly curtailed by an adult.

Sunday, the 4 y.o. boy, and the 3 and 1 y.o. girls were playing back there when the boy came scurrying into the living room stuttering, and a sharp squeal followed him from down the hall.  I went rushing to discover the reason.  Here's me side-stepping, high-stepping, navigating the balls in the hall, rounding the Cozy Coupe, and breathing sharply stopping in the doorway.  "Lilly!  Are you all right?"


The ball pit is totally empty, I know because it's now upside down, and there's a little moving knob of evidence of Lilly's head from underneath.  "Lilly!  Are you all right?  Are you crying?"

Very sweetly in a sing-song carefree voice, "I'm not crying.  I'm happy."

Shew, I swipe a brow.


The mess got worse!

I had gone upstairs to check on darling hubby who was sick.  The toddlers' mothers were busy chatting and crocheting as each is expecting in the fall.  Pregnancy makes them less quick on their feet.  Those statements explain how the toddler's "got away with murder".  The murder of my little cactus.

Who would touch a cactus anyway!?
A boy!  That's who!

Fisher Price Little People Barn contents - horses, sheep, tractor, farmer, trough, fences, and many more - were mixed with ball pit balls, and dirt.  Yep, dirt.  The boy had partially dumped my cactus on the bed.  The pot wasn't very big, less than 4 inches across, but nothing was interesting or eye catching about it, so why?  Maybe the farmer ran out of dirt.

Adult women bossing kids cleaned up the mess.  Under the beds went the broom handle, over the side table swiped a wet cloth, and throughout the room buzzed the vacuum.

After all was done, and I was getting a refreshing drink of tea in the kitchen, it dawned on me...we never did find that little sprig of a cactus!  Sigh.


Aftermath of a mess.

The 1 y.o. girl was fussing sitting on one of the orange blanketed beds.  "Ah, what's the matter?"  She points to two red marks on her ankle.  I'm thinking she's come into contact with that vanishing cactus somehow.  "My boo boo hurts."

I reach down to gently touch it.  Could there be an abrasion?  Is there a stuck nettle?

As I'm gently investigating, she says, "It not feel better."

Curiously, there's nothing.  I put a little spit on a fingertip and apply swiping action.  The red spots start disappearing, one final rub, and both spots are gone.

So are her whimpers.  With babyfied calm she says, "Oh.  It's not a boo boo."

Disaster averted.  Breath of relief!

Just like a snap of a finger, magically, she'd quit crying!