The Value of Money

On the way home today, Wyatt said, "Mommy, you know how chocolate is my favorite candy? Well, I accidentally ate the Hershey kiss off Zoe's cookie, today." [Wyatt and his friend, Thomas, made cookies with Poppa this weekend, which he then brought in for Show & Tell and to share with the class--and to get them out of the house!!! ] It seems that Zoe, for some strange reason, didn't appreciate a peanut butter blossom cookie with the chocolate picked off. We decided that he ate the chocolate on purpose but that he made her feel bad on accident. And he thought that getting her some new chocolate to go with an apology card would be a good route toward redemption.

Not wanting to let a "teachable moment" slide, I took him to Wegmans. On the way there, he picked three empty soda bottles out from under the kids' seats--okay, I realize we missed the "teachable moment" of keeping the car clean. Baby steps, people. We brought the bottles to the return machine and it duly spit out the little receipt. He said, "It's broken, this isn't money!" Urgh...does every moment have to be a teaching moment?

We dashed to the bulk food aisle and picked out 5 Hershey kisses (just in case any "accidentally" disappeared on the way) and weighed it on the scale--8 cents. Perfect, now he would even get a little change back from the 15 cents he "earned" on bottle returns. After getting all rung up, we started for the door, his fist tightly closed around two pennies and a nickel.

Wyatt suddenly stopped and dashed over to the Coinstar machine. "Turn your change into cash," he read aloud. "Sweet!! I want to give it my money and get three dollars!" The nearby store manager thought it was hilarious, but she wasn't the one dragging him away from the machine. I'm teachable momented out at the moment!

Can I Just Say...?

My alarm was set for the wrong time this morning, so I woke up at 7:00...to get the kids out the door by 7:30?!?!?! And the day just progressed along that same line, right up to just having dinner ready in time to leave for prayer meeting, not in time to actually eat any of it.

Some days are like that...even in Australia. As we each arrived, it seemed that every sister at prayer meeting had that same kind of day. Not necessarily a bad day, just little frustrations that compounded throughout the day. Some of us seemed on the verge of tears [Not me...never. :P]

As the evening progressed, I noticed that our spirits became lighter. I felt my own tension begin to unwind as we shared from the Bible, talked about last night's message (very encouraging, Bro. David!), and spent time learning from each other (resolved: bodily functions can slow the learning process in classrooms, at every age level).

Tammy's cat even got more relaxed--instead of gnawing on the shoe that I (honest) accidentally kicked at him, he sprawled full-length on the floor, front paws tucked up under his chin, stomach-side-up, back paws stretched to the sides. If I liked cats, I might have gone over and given him a nice pat on the head. But he is bigger than I am, and he scratches harder than I do--I've seen her kids after "playing" with the kitty.

Anyway, I left there with a lighter spirit and more peaceful countenance. Looking around, we all seemed a little lighter and happier.

Perhaps the most poignant reflection of this was Dory who sneaked downstairs toward the end. At school, today, she had a complete meltdown-- she was just weeping inconsolably for no obvious reason. She fell asleep tonight, on her Mommy's lap, lulled by prayers, surrounded by sisters, and with a pretty sunshine sticker stuck to the middle of her forehead.

Down in the Garden [Warning: NOT for the Squeamish] : )

I was going to write about this great analogy I thought of about weeding in the garden--since that is what I spent 5 hours doing, on Saturday. It really gives one time to think. Many of my thoughts were, "OW!" I was in the front yard, so I really had to be creative to pull the weeds, and get around behind the plants, and NOT wave my backside at the oncoming traffic too much.

Naturally, I woke up Sunday morning, all achy and sore and we had an outpouring of the Holy Spirit! I didn't get as much exercise there as Bro. Fred (Praise Him, Brother!) but it sure wasn't a stand-still kind of morning. Hallelujah!

Back to Saturday, though, I really don't mind pulling the weeds. When I have the time, I really enjoy getting every last little bit out, even when I have to dig down a little. Last year was the first time I really put any new plants in, so I spent a lot of time getting the front garden all laid out and organized. Do you have any idea how many nasty little creatures live in the dirt? It is a disgusting, bustling metropolis!

Over the course of the summer, I did learn NOT to scream every time a spider jumped out (and my garden spiders are HUGE!)! I got to know which bugs are good for a garden; and I also learned that you have to kill the ones that are bad for a garden so that they don't kill all your lovely plants. [Warning: next sentence NOT for the squeamish] I got pretty good at squeezing grubs as I tossed them away--feeling the faint "Pop!" just before releasing them into the weed pile.

Which is where my story, today, leads us...I was hurrying to finish because I needed to shower and get ready for Bro. Richard's birthday party, AND I had been doing this for the last five hours. As I fought with the last big weed, I uncovered another grub. It's important, here, to insert the tidal wave of factors that led to what happened...I was tired and my joints were stiff, I hadn't stopped for lunch, I was in a hurry but unable to move quickly, and I was obviously NOT thinking straight. IT WAS HUGE!! And, yes, I squeezed it. (By the way--I wear thick gardening gloves, just in case you thought I was actually doing this bare-handed.)

But my arms were not moving quickly enough, so it didn't pop as it was tossed into the pile. IT POPPED ALL OVER MEEEEEEEE!!!!! Thank God, I had my sunglasses on and my mouth was closed. I felt wet splotches land everywhere...in my hair, on my face, on my neck. I looked down and there were little white goo blobs all over my pretty, green, "Everyone Loves an Irish Girl!" t-shirt.

Well, that did it. I left the last weed. I'm going to carry that horror with me, down to my grave. And now you can, too!