Well, I was six. Once.

This week in Sunday school it was kind of a mad house. Six kids. Five of them were boys. Two of them were age 3. All of them had their levels cranked to 11.

When I finally got them to sit down and listen to the story, it calmed down a bit. There was question asking and hand-raising and Jackson, age 6, asked his fellow miscreants to raise their hands if they were 6 years old as well.

Naturally, I raised my hand.

Jackson: Miss Laura, you’re not six!
Me: Yeah huh! I am.
Jackson: You’re not!
Me: Then how old am I?
Jackson: Sixteen!
Me: Oh, yeah. I forgot.
Will, also age 6, whom I babysat for last week and I’ve already played this game with: No you’re not, you’re 27!

Dammit. Cover’s been blown.

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You better get used to this stuff

Other gems from four- and five-year-old Sunday School:

Dottie (teacher): God told Abraham and Sarah they would have as many children as there were stars in the sky. How many do you think that is?
Johnny, 4: Eight!

Dottie: Miss Laura told us what her name means, what about you, Johnny? What does your name mean?
Johnny: BATMAN!

Pretty sure that name didn’t appear in the Bible but bonus points for creativity

I’ve signed up to help teach four- and five-year-old Sunday School because I’m a glutton for punishment I enjoyed helping Rachel out when she was teaching last year and the one week I’ve attended so far did not disappoint.

The lady that’s doing most of the teaching (I’m there for cat-herding and craft assistance) is the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet and she has a grandson in the class. Her other grandson, Wyatt, apparently came to the class last week, even though he’s 3.

That age is big on repetition so for Sunday School the past two weeks they’ve learned the story about Abraham and Sarah.

Or they’re supposed to.

Because apparently, last week, after the lesson when the teacher asked the class what Abraham’s wife’s name was (after it had been repeated multiple times) Wyatt called out confidently: “LADY GAGA.”

It’s gonna be a fun year…

Where everyone should get their advice

I’ve told you before about my occasional fill-ins as a Sunday School teacher for four- to six-year-olds, when my sister or the other teacher can’t be there.

It’s a fun little class and I usually leave with several hilarious words of advice or ridiculously cute and outrageous overheard conversations.

And today was no exception.

After talking about Lady Gaga and favorite singers:
Darrah, age 5: I love Justin Bieber. I want to kiss him.
Me: Don’t you have a boyfriend?
Darrah: I have a boyfriend but I don’t love him as much as I love Justin Bieber.
Me: How old do you think you have to be to be somebody’s girlfriend?
Darrah: You have to be at least three years old to have a boyfriend.
Me: So how do you know if someone wants to be your boyfriend? How can you tell?
Darrah: As long as he thinks you’re cute he’ll be your boyfriend.
Me: What if he thinks I’m cute but doesn’t want to be my boyfriend?
Will, age 6: That’s IMPOSSIBLE!

Give or take a few years

Sometimes I help teach five-year-olds at Sunday school. And it never fails to be hilarious. Case in point, today, when we heard the story about Isaac and how old his mother was when she had him.

Ellen (Sunday school teacher): See the grey hair and the wrinkles?
Darrah, age 5: You have wrinkles on your face!
Ellen: Yes, I do. I’m a grandma.
Darrah looks at me: You don’t have wrinkles. How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Darrah: Ummmmmm 15.
Me: Close enough.

It’s at least better than when that kid told me I’m older than Santa.

And that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown

This past weekend, my youngest sister and I helped my other sister teach her Sunday School class of four- and five-year-olds. There was only one little kid in there – a little boy named Will – and he talks like a grown-up. She tells us all the time how smart all the kids in there are and how they retain everything they talk about in the Sunday School class, sometimes even bringing part of the previous week’s lesson into the activity they do during a story.

Long story short, this week they were supposed to make stars, to symbolize what the wise men saw on the night Jesus was born. It was stars cut out of cardstock, covered in glitter and hung up by a string. Will made his and we passed him upstairs when he was talking to his mom as we were leaving church.

Will’s mom: “You made a star? Is it to hang on our tree?”
Will: “No, it’s for the Wise Men to follow!”