Third time's the charm

   When we first moved to Carlsbad, I was called to be the Sunbeams teacher. A few months after that, I was called to be a mother. I was so sick I hardly ever made it to church, and when I was feeling up to going, I was wishing I felt sick. My class was awful, although I’m sure it was the hormones blinding my judgment. I would get into the car after church and sincerely tell my husband that I was going to be a horrible mother because Sunbeams made me realize that I hated children.



     One day during class, one of the more “loveable” rugrats told me he knew sign language. I watched as the child signed “I love you” to me and my heart melted. “You love me?” I asked, my voice shaky with emotion. He rolled his eyes as he said “no!” and then signed his message again. “I said, I don’t love you!”


   The dimpled fingers of this tiny little three-year-old made me cry. A lot. Then I asked to get released. (More for my horrible, non-stopping illness, though!)


     I was relieved to learn a few months later that I didn’t really hate kids, but I always cringe (and laugh) when I think about Sunbeams. It has been a little joke between me and my husband. Three years later, last Sunday, I was asked (extremely last minute, as in, as class was starting) to sub for the Sunbeams class. This class isn’t known for the best-behaved children (I would know, Grayson is now in there), but I agreed to take on the task.


     The lesson was about appreciating our sense of taste and smell: easy peasy. I thought I was doing an excellent job with my spur-of-the-moment lesson. I drew a large oval on a sheet of paper for each child and asked them to draw a face on the oval, and to remember to be grateful for our noses and mouth.


    One little girl reached for a crayon and said, “I’m going to draw a frown on mine.”


   “A frown?” I asked. “Why are you going to draw a frown?”


    The little girl looked at me and earnestly said, “Because it doesn’t like you.”


     Memories of a little boy signing to me came rushing back. I started laughing at the fact that a whole new generation of sunbeams acted the same way. I must just have naturally bad rapport with three-year-olds. But the point of my story is: I didn’t break down and cry in front of these little “angels”. And that just goes to show you how FANTASTIC this pregnancy has been for me!