If you’ve spent any time in the US of A at the tender age(s) of 12 and under, you will understand that summertime….means VBS.
Usually we travel back to the States in July and miss our local VBS, but this year since we are not embarking on any epic roadtrips, the Johnson boys were enthusiastic participants. All three of the Johnson boys.
Yes, for five nights last week, the professor and I were relieved of childrearing responsibilities from the hours of 6-8pm. The first night, we had drinks with friends in their backyard. The second night we played tennis. The other nights were spent less excitingly; tending to various obligations, but even so…..
It might actually be my favorite part of the whole experience – that the organizer kindly allowed my one-and-three-quarter-months-away-from-turning-three youngest son to attend. (With the understanding that he couldn’t be a high maintenance participant – i.e. following directions [more or less], no wailing at being dropped off and no filling his diaper with foul smelling substances.)
He passed with semi-flying colors, save the incident when he was dancing on stage and sort of knocked over the styrofoam ‘city’ backdrop. (At least he steered clear of the drums.)
Each night he donned his royal blue shirt, and spoke enthusiastically about being on the ‘blue team’ with other little people close to his age. He even attempted some of the dance motions to the songs they learned.
Which was my other favorite part of the whole experience: attempting to recreate the motions at home whilst my oldest boy-child rolled his eyes nearly into the back of his skull, and my middle boy-child covered his eyes from embarrassment.
‘So, we’ve been asked to do the singing and dancing at next year’s VBS,’ I lied to my horrified children. ‘What do you think?’ ‘You’re the worst singer and dancer ever,’ the Gort sighed, visibly shuddering at the thought of his mother jumping around on a stage in front of people.
Both photos taken by K.Marcotte.