My son has just turned four. This means he is effectively booted from the church nursery during worship service on Sunday mornings. We've been practicing a little by bringing him into "big church" on Wednesday nights, and he's been to Sunday morning church once or twice. We have a few "not me's" from yesterday.
First of all, it is not me who gets to church early every single week. And if I did, this would not be so that I can drop my kids off at their respective classes and enjoy a few minutes of quiet before my own class begins.
I did not decide yesterday that I didn't care if Brendan promoted to the four year old class or not. The three year old class has a man that teaches it, and as Brendan is lacking on male influences in his life right now, I did not come to the conclusion that I'd just follow Brendan's lead on this. (There was a change-up several months ago when this man wasn't Brendan's teacher for a while, and ... let's just say ... it was not MY child who threw a fit every single week to stay with the teacher he loved, to the point where I'm sure people starting hiding when they saw us coming.) Ironically, after some stress regarding making this decision, it was not my child who had a total "whatever" attitude about which class he was going into yesterday.
We have a couple at church who is about to leave the country for military service. Yesterday we had a prayer for them. This was a little emotional for me. I did not come back and sit down after this prayer yesterday, wiping tears, and then realize that a sticker Brendan had in Sunday school was stuck onto my chest. I am not wondering just how long that sticker was on me, and I did not decide that maybe it would be best to just not know.
And one more ... Brendan did not decide that it would be great fun to insist on being held during the song service portion of the service yesterday. He did not discover while I was struggling to hold his 34 lb body that he was in the perfect position to kick his sister. He did not express great delight in this discovery. I did not start singing to him, along to the tune of the song we were singing, "if you kick your sister, I will spank you." Great to go from singing praises to the Lord to threatening bodily harm to a child in a couple of seconds. If that had happened, of course, which it didn't. Not at all, not me, not even one bit.