So, lovely day at church.
Rachel decides to walk herself to nursery today. I thought she was going with Joseph. My friend told me Rachel was walking down the hall, looking in each door, saying, "Nope, not this one" until she got the hers. I guess I don't have to worry about her getting lost.
Then I was informed that Shari spit in her Primary teacher's face. The story went something like this--
Me: "Katy, (the Primary chorister) you should have been there last week when Sisley (another friend's daughter) was spitting spit balls."
Katy: "Oh, there was spit today!"
(At this, Sisley's mom and I have our ears perked up.)
Me: "Really? Sisley was spitting again?"
Katy: "No. That would be Shari full on spitting in her teachers face."
Apparently, despite training to the contrary, Shari thinks this is a socially acceptable way of expressing her frustration. And, yes, we made her go apologize.
And then there was poor Josh. We were informed that he fell off his chair during Primary. He's sporting the huge scrape on his left eye to prove it. I just call him Bruiser now.
Any need to ask why I'm done having children?
