Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Fidgeting in church pews

When I was really little, a perk of going to church every Sunday was the possibility of receiving a nickel for good behavior. If dad didn't give me "the look" and mom didn't have to tell me to quiet down, my chances of earning 5 cents were promising. That means if I was well behaved every Sunday for a year, I collected a whopping $2.40. In kid's terms (in the 90's at least) that was like being a millionaire. Today, I think there are slightly different standards; a 6 year old I babysat for two years ago told me the tooth fairy gave him $20 for every tooth he lost. Whaaaa? Jaw dropping to floor right now. When I was little and about to lose a tooth it was like, quick hide from dad so he doesn't try that whole doorknob and string tactic...he might be kidding...he might not be...kinda scared...better wiggle this one out before things get serious.

Sorry for the tooth detour. Anyway, as I got older a perk of going to church was being able to lean my head on my mom's shoulder during the homily. I mean just because my eyes are closed, it doesn't mean I'm not listening.

As of late, a perk of going to church is sitting on the edge of my seat in hopeful anticipation that the choir will sing a song that requires the congregation to clap along. First of all, those songs are usually fun. But most of all, seeing my dad attempt to clap to a beat is just about the funniest thing I have ever seen. It's like watching a penguin trying to hoola hoop.


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