Footsteps

Braving the halls of our Children’s Ministry wing on any given Sunday is like fighting a hurricane armed with an umbrella. Everyone hurries to nab their children and race to the car before their favorite restaurant fills up with other church-going patrons.

Last Sunday, I drew the short straw on Operation Child Retrieval and set off at a brisk walk. Everything was smooth sailing until a family of visitors (judging by their carefree saunter) slowed my pace to nearly a standstill. Reminding myself that I might be a part of their first impression of this good establishment, I resisted the urge to push past them in the now swelling crowd.

Since my progress was delayed, I absentmindedly reflected on the family in question. They seemed like the common variety: a mom of average proportions, a long and lanky dad towering beside, and a young dark-haired boy trailing behind. As I watched, I soon noticed the boys gait seemed erratic, sometime stretching this way or that to take the next step. He did not appear to be disabled or engaged in careless play. In fact, his steps were marked by intense concentration.

A Fairy Blunder

In our house, the “tooth fairy” wears man pants, is prone to 5’oclock shadow, and has an alternate ego as a salesman with high travel demands.

I don’t know how or why it happened, but somehow that one fell into the “Daddy-do” side of our job delegations. I suspect it’s related to the fact that he conducts the lock down each night (putting the dog in the kennel, checking the doors, setting the alarm, etc.). Part of his nightly rounds includes peeking at our girls to ensure their safety and well-being. I guess if he’s the last one checking on them, it seemed logical that he perform the monetary exchange for any newly lost teeth. He’s going in there anyway, right?