The 30-year old Sunbeam

Last Sunday was the first time I went to primary. Ever.

Our oldest have turned 3, and with the new year brings Primary. We've been talking up Sunbeams for a couple of months, to no avail. Sunday brought crying, kicking, whining, and clingyness. So, I went to Primary with them, deluded, thinking I could be of help.

I had a blast. I so want a Primary calling. Those Sunbeams are a crack up:

Sharing Time lady: "Every one of us is a child of God. Where did we live before we came here?"

Sunbeam, raising hand: "We lived in California!"

Too funny. That kid's family had, indeed, just moved from California, so he answered the question correctly.

My two Sunbeams, unfortunately, weren't as engrossed in the lesson. At one point I dragged both of them out, and looked for a place where I could talk to them and calm everyone down. I found the "Member Cleaning Supplies" room. Good as any. We talked. They calmed down. We went back to the Primary room.

Only they had dismissed to classes. I told them we'd now be going to their class. This brought another round of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Back to the cleaning closet.

One of my sons wanted to go to class, the other didn't. So I decided to take the willing son to class, and come back and deal with the other one separately. This didn't go over too well.

Now, try to picture this, if you just happened to be walking down the hall and saw the following:

I found myself in the hallway, with one kid clung to my leg, crying, and another son standing in the door to the cleaning supply room, crying.

Me, frustrated, talking to son standing in the supply room: "Fine, just stay there and I'll deal with you in a minute!"

Then I turn around, and run right into... the stake president. Who just happened to be walking down the hallway at that moment. Of course. What timing. "Well," I think, "maybe he doesn't remember who I am."

"Hey Ed," he says (so much for not remembering me). "Looks like you have your hands full."

Yes, hands full, just leaving my poor children in a room full of deadly cleaning supplies and the mother-of-all-vacuum-cleaners. That's all.

We finally made it to class. Everyone was happy. I slipped out the door. And that was my first time in Primary.