All of you know I spend a lot of time around kids. Little kids. The kind of kids that have no perceptible inhibition or shame.
Today...well, today takes the cake on any and every word I've ever heard come out of a child's mouth. And friends, that's taking the cake from a lot of words.
I taught Sunday School today. I was sitting on my comfy blue stool working like a fool to engage a roomful of three year olds in today's story. All of a sudden, one of the volunteers says, "Henry (not his real name. Protecting the innocent-ish) please don't take off your pants." Say wha? I look over to my right and sure enough Henry has unsnapped and unzipped his pants. Ummm....
"Henry," I say, "We don't take off our pants at church. Do you need some help zipping and buttoning them?"
Says Henry, "But my [insert technical term for male part] hurts." I say nothing. Because, really? What does one say? So, unfortunately, I didn't cut it off at the pass. I really should have. Because this came next, "Sometimes my [insert technical term for male part] hurts because it gets hard."
I seriously did not feel I was going to be able to recover from this one. The other teachers and I just looked at each other-eyes big as saucers. And then I started laughing. A lot.
Thank goodness the rest of the class seemed glassy-eyed and oblivious.
It is my life's greatest wish that I still know this child when he gets married. And that he invites me to his wedding. I'll be old by then. You know, the kind of old where you have no perceptible inhibition or shame? It'll be one hell of a toast...