Last Sunday, the children's Sunday school teacher commented, as we were dropping them off, how good Wm was watching out for Patch. Normal mode of operation in our house is for Greg or me to be playing referee to unending games of tackle or chase, so this side of Wm I had not yet observed.
Interesting, that Sunday, the Sunday school room had just been painted the day before and the fumes were still too strong (we didn't bother asking why a church decided to paint on a Saturday and not a Monday). Thus, Sunday school was moved to the veranda, across the courtyard from the sanctuary. Our church was built in 1958, probably pre-air conditioning, so the sanctuary "walls" are actually floor to ceiling sliding class doors - now, of course, closed with modern central air - but providing a clear (and distracting) view from the sanctuary across the courtyard, to the Sunday school veranda.
Throughout the service, I kept sneaking peaks out to watch the kids and see how their mornings proceeded. First, as their class was starting, I saw Patch run away from the tables to the fountain in the courtyard. After all, at 90 degrees with 80% humidity, wouldn't you want to play in the fountain. Then Wm, watching from the edge of the veranda paving stones, looked concerned. Teacher was calling both of them back to worship, but Patch obviously wasn't interested. I couldn't hear, but I watched the big brother gesture emphatically, and Patch finally run across the grass to his kuya.
A little while later I checked how their kids service was progressing. At some point in the intervening 10 minutes, Wm had pulled Patch's chair right in front of his own, so that he sat with his legs straddling Patch's chair and both hands on Patch's shoulders. I guess he didn't want to take any chances of the fountain luring the small brother away.
Perhaps I should have been focusing more on our service, but I don't usually have a chance to watch the boys with my presence unobserved. Of course, the usual mayhem broke out an hour later at home.
Interesting, that Sunday, the Sunday school room had just been painted the day before and the fumes were still too strong (we didn't bother asking why a church decided to paint on a Saturday and not a Monday). Thus, Sunday school was moved to the veranda, across the courtyard from the sanctuary. Our church was built in 1958, probably pre-air conditioning, so the sanctuary "walls" are actually floor to ceiling sliding class doors - now, of course, closed with modern central air - but providing a clear (and distracting) view from the sanctuary across the courtyard, to the Sunday school veranda.
Throughout the service, I kept sneaking peaks out to watch the kids and see how their mornings proceeded. First, as their class was starting, I saw Patch run away from the tables to the fountain in the courtyard. After all, at 90 degrees with 80% humidity, wouldn't you want to play in the fountain. Then Wm, watching from the edge of the veranda paving stones, looked concerned. Teacher was calling both of them back to worship, but Patch obviously wasn't interested. I couldn't hear, but I watched the big brother gesture emphatically, and Patch finally run across the grass to his kuya.
A little while later I checked how their kids service was progressing. At some point in the intervening 10 minutes, Wm had pulled Patch's chair right in front of his own, so that he sat with his legs straddling Patch's chair and both hands on Patch's shoulders. I guess he didn't want to take any chances of the fountain luring the small brother away.
Perhaps I should have been focusing more on our service, but I don't usually have a chance to watch the boys with my presence unobserved. Of course, the usual mayhem broke out an hour later at home.
2 comments:
This cracks me up :)
I like this post...only if we all had big brothers to keep us away from temptation!
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