The Return of the Block-head Boys-Lesson Learned

When I was 6 my parents took me and my brother and sister to see 101 Dalmations at the theater. As we were leaving the house they asked us to "go get into the car." I am sure they said it repeatedly, as is the mantra of every parent. Well, Mat and Erica got into the car, while I went around to the side of the house and threw rocks into a puddle. My parents jumped into the car, pulled out of the driveway and drove away, leaving me screaming and sobbing hysterically in there wake. They drove around the block, but to me the 2 minutes they were gone seemed like a terrifying and regrettable eternity. When they pulled back up infront of the house I was a "lesson learned" child.

Sunday afternoon, I scurried about, putting ribbons in hair and peanut butter sandwiches in mouths, as we bustled to get ready for church. After a few face wipes and hair adjustments I sent all four children out to the van. "Get in the van." "Get in the van." "Get in the van." "Get in the van." and one more "Get in the van," in case one of them didn't hear me the first four times.

I grabbed my purse, the keys and my over-stuffed church bag and made my way out to "get in the van." Three of my four had found there way, but the 4 year old was playing in the neighbors yard, with friends. I instantly saw a teaching opportunity, thought of my own "lesson learned," jumped behind the wheel of the van, started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

The 4 year old noticed and ran our way, smiling from ear to ear. That should have been my first clue that I was fated to fail. He ran beside us for a few seconds, waving and laughing and then stopped and headed back to the house. The next clue to my failure was the wailing from the other three children in the car..."Mooooooommmm!! PLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSSSE, don't LLLLEEEEEEEEAAAAAVVVVVVE him!" I tried comforting them, explaining the plan, that I would never REALLY leave him, but they remained suspicious of my intentions until I had completely turned the van around and was heading back home.

When I pulled back into the driveway I had been gone for a total of 1 minute and 23 seconds. I jumped out of the van and headed for the front door where I fully expected to find a sobbing ball of 4 year old cowering in the corner, abandoned and VERY repentant. I am sure I was exuding righteous power and smugness. Instead, I was met at the door by a very confident 4 year old with his skateboard under his arm and his helmet strapped on snug. I tried to hide my shock and fumbled around for words.

Our conversation went as follows:

"What do you think you are doing?"
"You left, so I am skateboarding to church?"
"You don't know how to get to church from here."
"Oh yeah, I do."
"You can't skateboard for 5 miles on a free-way."
"I will skateboard on the side, where there are no cars."
"What about the super steep, mile long hill?"
"I will carry my skateboard up the hill, and I will stop and rest in the shade if I get tired."
"It will take you hours. We will be ready to go home before you even get there."
"Well then, can I get a ride home?"

Once again, I am a "lesson learned" child!!