Like father, like son

When I retrieved our oldest from his Sunday School class, he showed me a little tag he’d decorated. ‘Mom,’ he told me excitedly, ‘this says: I may be small but God loses us all.’ ‘Loses?’ I asked, perplexed, having momentarily forgotten that our boy wonder pronounces the ‘u’ sound with an ‘l’ in front. Thus ‘uses’ becomes ‘loses’.

After all, this is the kid who informed me on Easter, ‘Jesus died from a rose.’ A cause of death that isn’t mentioned in any Bible I’ve read. I assumed he’d heard ‘Jesus died’ and ‘he arose’ and had somehow joined the phrases. At least I hope that’s what happened. I didn’t really want to interrogate his teacher about theology.

As Mr. G gets older, it’s interesting to see which habits and quirks of his parents he ‘picks up’.

Watching him during the singing part of Vacation Bible School last week, there was just no denying the fact that he is our child. Blond hair and blue eyes notwithstanding.

There were about sixty kids gathered in the sanctuary singing heartily; performing various motions that reflected the words in the different songs. Well, I should say there were fifty-nine kids gathered in the sanctuary singing heartily, doing motions that reflected the songs’ lyrics.

One kid was sitting in the pew, while everyone around him was standing up, singing and dancing. The kid in the pew was neither singing nor making motions of any kind.

That was our kid.

Seeing as we, his parents, wouldn’t be caught dead doing any kind of motions, either, I really didn’t feel like I could reprimand him for sitting on his butt. I pointed out his non-participation to a fellow mom, explaining that he was rather like his parents. She started dancing beside me, as a joke. ‘Yeah, I’m a little embarassed just standing beside you,’ I told her.

I did broach the matter of the Gort’s not singing along with his friends. ‘How come you weren’t singing or doing any of the motions with the songs,’ I inquired as we drove home in our car-van. ‘Because I was thinking quietly about what time you were going to come and get me,’ he replied. (Huh? How does he always manage to come up with a reply that is completely unexpected?)

‘Well, now you know, so tomorrow you can stand up and sing, right?’ I suggested.

‘No, I’ll still be thinking about what time you’re coming to get me.’

He appears to be following in his father’s footsteps in private matters, as well. I was in the office checking email when I heard the toilet flush. After washing his hands, Mr. G emerged from the bathroom. When I saw our latest library acquisition still lying on the floor by the toilet, I had to laugh.

One man’s Glamsters is another man’s Vanity Fair.

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