I’ve decided to become a stealth blogger, posting only on the weekends, when no one will see me.

It has been an eventful summer thusfar.  Elvis has been in day camp for the last three weeks.  I’ve pulled him out of camp for this week because Mister Bubby has Cub Scout day camp and Princess Zurg has drama day camp, and I figured there wasn’t any way I could possibly pick up all three of them from their respective camps on time, so I wouldn’t even try.  Sugar Daddy fell ill on Friday afternoon, and after 48 hours of having Elvis all to myself (or nearly all to myself), I am beginning to think that I should have made more of an attempt to bend time and space or hire an additional driver or something because the next five days of non-stop Elvis is looking more than a little daunting.

I’m pretty sure he misses school.  If he isn’t insisting on doing his Math Minutes, he’s insisting on doing his Phonics workbook.  For your information, there are 100 Math Minutes, and he has already been through them once and is doing them over again.  I suppose the good news is that at his rate of repetition, he ought to be mostly up to grade level by the time September rolls around.  The bad news is that he can’t do any of this on his own–where he doesn’t need actual assistance, he needs moral support, or an audience, or whatever.  And for every second you let him wait, he starts in with the screeching.  He threw some balls over the roof for a little while last night, so that was a good sign.  His speech therapist recommended I force him to do heavy labor, but not being a heavy-labor sort of gal myself, I’m not sure what I’d have him do.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to start chasing him around the park or something.  I’m not much of a runner, either.

Today I had to teach SD’s Primary class (6-7-year-olds).  Fortunately, most of the children were on vacation.  There were only four of them in class, which is almost a manageable size for me.  Children dislike me without fearing me, which is not a good combination for an authority figure.  So, actually, officially, I hate teaching Primary.  But I do enjoy being in Primary because other people’s children are amusing when they’re not bugging the living crap out of me.  Not unlike my own children.  Anyway.

During “sharing time” (large group meeting, before we split into classes) they were asking the kids how they could “follow in Jesus’s footsteps.”  The kids were saying stuff like, “I can pray,” “I can help people,” “I can be nice to people,” and so on and so on.  Then they got to this one kid who said, “I can make people alive after they’re dead.”  I don’t know who that kid was, but I like him.

In class the lesson was supposed to be “I Can Be Kind.”  It’s a pretty straightforward lesson, in theory.  First we talked about the story of the Good Samaritan.  We talked about how the thieves stole the poor guy’s money and his clothes, and one of the kids said, “Did they even take his underwear?”  And they all had a good naughty chuckle over that.  Then later I had them act out the story, and the kid playing the man set upon by thieves turned into a zombie and attacked all the passersby, including the Good Samaritan.  He even attacked the innkeeper.  After a brisk walk around the church building, I had them draw some pictures.  The one girl in the class drew some flowers and “I love you.”  Two of the boys drew guys with guns killing other guys.  The third boy drew a bunch of squares whilst singing opera.

This is why I’m glad I’m only in Primary occasionally.  I couldn’t possibly enjoy any of this if I felt that I was responsible for teaching anyone anything.

The title of this blog is taken from an old Duran Duran song.  Do you remember it?  Why would you?  But that’s what was on my mind this evening.

And now I’m being recruited to assist Elvis with his Math Minutes.  It may be a while before you hear from me again.

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