Promotion Sunday!

We knew going in that today was Promotion Sunday at church. What we DIDN'T know was that Freddie was being promoted in-to Jones's class, which means he was being promoted OUT of the nursery (I thought he had another year of the pre-K Sunday School class). This is really exciting for a mama who's more "onward and upward" than "please stay a baby."

It DOES, however, mean the end of our regular interactions with Mr. John & Mrs. Betty. This  husband and wife team has spent Sunday mornings with 25 years'-worth of Arden Pres babies. This is the only sad part of the whole arrangement. John and Betty will be very deeply missed.

I was concerned about how the boys would behave, being in the same class and, probably, seated in pretty close proximity to each other. I threatened them within an inch of their lives before saying goodbye and told each of the teachers to be sure they behaved. When we got back to pick them up, we got a glowing report. Hopefully, the sweet teachers weren't just covering for our tiny guys.

During the service each week, Jones always asks if he can pass the offering plate. He takes this responsibility VERY seriously. I honestly have to watch myself, lest I inadvertently pass it without letting him hand it to (or from, depending where we're sitting) his daddy. Well, on this Sunday, he handed the plate from one person to the next. He then turned to me and flexed his muscles, like he were Rick Friggin' Flair. It's worth noting here that he is CONVINCED the Flintstones Vitamins he's been taking for about the last six week are turning him into a superhero. Whenever he does some new skill or show of strength, he will look amazed and say, "Mama! It's the Flintstones! They're working!"

Also of note from church on Sunday is a conversation that Jones had with Reagan Moore ... well, it wasn't so much a conversation as Reagan talking to Jones, who either stuck his tongue out or growled at her in response. I can't quite remember.

The Moores sat behind us in church. After the service, Reagan gave Jones some pictures she'd drawn for him on her bulletin. She told him, "I love you" and, a beat later, "Sometimes, I wish you were my husband."

I can't remember if Jones growled at her or stuck out his tongue, but whichever it was, he did it with a glint in his eye, and on the way to lunch, he sweetly and sincerely said, "We should write Reagan a Thank You note!" so no matter how he responded at church, "I think he doth protest too much."

I DID, however, have to explain to him what a "husband" is. "I'm not gonna HAVE a wife," he told me in response. Sounds like Reagan's got her work cut out for her.