The Calling from Hell

November 4

For real, though. Just let me tell you about my Sunday. We got to church just fine and everything and sat through a rather uneventful fast and testimony meeting. Then we go up and ask the bishop where he wants us to help out or if he just wants us to go to Sunday school. Unfortunately for us, we were needed. Two of the primary presidency counselors didn’t show up, so they needed our help containing in the primary. I had no clue what I was in for. We go into sharing time and there are kids everywhere running, screaming, hopping like frogs across the floor, and pulling each others’ hair. Our job: control the children. I plopped myself right in the middle of the room around some of the kids and thought to myself, ‘well, once she starts teaching they will calm down a little bit.’ That was a little bit true, but mostly not. I sat right next to a little boy named Lloyd who was quite a little… doll. I think he was about 6 and just out of control. He sat and tried to put my hair in his ear, put my hair over his head to pretend he was blonde (he was dark as night), and kept asking me over and over questions about my personal life. He was quite a funny little boy, but in the middle of sharing time, I wasn’t having it. So I was sushing him every other second and trying to keep him at least from yelling in the lesson. Then Taylor and I switched children and I was now in charge of controlling Rosy. Rosy is Lloyd’s sister. Good heavens, I want to know what happens in that household. Rosy is about 4 years old and hopped right up onto my lap and grabbed my purse and put it on her and started playing with the key asking me if it was a proper key. “What can I open with this? Can I open the door? Can I open the food cupboard? Can I open up the chest? What can I open?” She was firing questions at me so fast, I didn’t know what to do. Then since it was singing time, we stood up to play head, shoulders, knees and toes and she spent the duration of the time stamping on my feet with her boots. What a sweet little girl she is. Then when junior sharing time was done, we were set free and allowed to go to relief society. Apparently we did such a good job being punching bags, they want us to come back every week. So my calling is “child wrangler”. Kill me.