I make funny choices when I'm stoned

The day after I gave birth to He Who Must Not Be Named and was still in the hospital, I got a call on my cell from a number I didn't recognize. Now, please do not ask me why I answered the phone. It could have had something to do with all the drugs I was on, or possibly all the lost blood that had not yet been replenished by The Nurses Who Deserve to Go Straight To Heaven (as opposed to The Nurses Who Were Like "Or . . . You Could Always Just NOT Get a Blood Transfusion and in a Few Weeks You'll Start to Feel Better and Will Stop Looking Like a Ghost and Passing out All the Time." I'm wishing a different fate on those nurses.)

Anyway, I answered the phone. A man introduced himself as a Brother So-and-So from the ward bishopric.

Brother So-and-So: How are things going?

Me: Great! I just had a baby, Whooo-oooooo!

(Thinking: Wow, the ward is already calling to congratulate me? Gosh they are on the ball here.)

BSS: Oh really? Wow.

Me: Yep! Just now! I'm still in the hospital and everything!!

BSS: Oh. Oh gosh. Um . . . that's--you know, I was going to call to ask you a question about Primary, but um, nevermind. I'm going to let you go now. Congratulations on the baby!

Me: Uh huh! Wooooooooooh . . . .

I figured I'd pretty well dodged a bullet there. Only then he called again about 6 weeks later, falling all over himself to apologize over calling me in the hospital. (Only, not his fault, how was he supposed to know? I'm the drugged-out moron who picked up the phone.) And he wanted to see if I would possibly at all be willing to be one of the teachers for the 6-year-olds. I said sure, but that I wasn't planning to bring the baby to church for at least another month so I couldn't start right away. He said the Primary President was fine with that and that she really wanted me and would be happy to wait until I was ready to start coming back. So there you go. I figured hey, I get 6-year-olds so this should be fine. It'll be like teaching Savvy's class. Some of them can already read and everything.

The week before I started, the Primary President came over to give me the lesson manual and chat with me about things. Only, while she was talking to me I started to wonder if there's something wrong with the water here, other than the part where it does not contain fluoride but does contain algae. (No lie. We filter our water and green stuff is in the filter. It's nasty.)

She went down the class list and talked a little bit about the kids.

PP: One really nice thing is that you don't have to deal with diapers. Except for . . . this boy. He still may be in them.

Me: Oh . . . does he have any developmental delays or anything?

PP: Nope, some kids just won't do it until they're ready, you know?

Me: (Um, I guess . . . )

And then later:

PP: Now, this boy generally has his mom in class with him every week, because he gets anxious if she's not there. This other girl, she has a hard time but her mom doesn't stay and after a few minutes she's usually fine.

Me: (to myself: Holy cow, doesn't that make, say, SCHOOL difficult?)

Me:(to her:) Now, these kids are 6 years old, right?

PP: No, they're 3.

Yeah. Turns out there was a miscommunication. I'm ACTUALLY teaching the Sunbeams. Which makes the whole crying/diapers thing make a LOT more sense. And then I panicked about "Oh my gosh, what do I even DO with 3 year olds," until I remembered, "Hi, you just spent two years doing storytimes for 3 year olds. I think you can handle this." So I just need to figure out a way to change the words to all my storytime songs so that they have Jesus in there somewhere and we'll be good to go!

Also?


BOOOM!

You are welcome.

Posted in: being a Mormon