This weekend I was invited to a going away party. The girl who invited me on that retreat is heading off to France to become a nun. While there she will be spending several years studying Philosophy and Theology all in French, a language she doesn’t know yet. That is going to be really hard. They are already difficult subjects, particularly because you have to be very precise in your language. Imprecise language can lead people to draw wrong conclusions. I remember on my exams getting a lot red marks when I was being too general in my language and I wound up saying things that could easily be taken in ways I didn’t mean. So she has to learn all this from classes taught entirely in French. Also she probably has to learn Latin and Greek. It’s hard enough to learn a foreign language, but try learning one being taught to you in a language you haven’t learned yet. It’d be like learning trying to learn Norwegian over in China. That on top of the cultural changes, and the fact that she is thinking about becoming a nun, are enough to have us keep her in our prayers.
At this party I only knew a few of the people. Fortunately some of those people are very old and dear friends so I had a few folks to talk to. But they had friends and family visiting and it was a large party and it wasn’t like they were going to be babysit me the entire time so occasionally I had to keep myself entertained. Fortunately there were a ton of little kids running around. At one point I was by a swing hanging from a tree which is for little babies, because they can be strapped into it, when one little three year old came running up and asked me to make her fly. That seemed safe enough so I picked her up as quick as I could and took her as high as my arms would go. I was shocked about how easy this was. I thought she’d be a lot heavier. I did it again and this time I got her into the leaves of the tree which I thought was pretty neat, but one nearby Mommy, Sarge, told me to be careful. So I put her down and she ran off.
Not a moment later she was back, this time asking me to swing her by the arms. While I understood the mechanics of her request, it seemed like a horrific idea. I was already a stranger to most of these people, and I didn’t know if they’d be very pleased seeing me swinging one of the young ones around by her arms. I imagine most people would not like strangers flailing their children about by the arms. Also, I was concerned that during this swinging about that her arms might rip off her body. I felt that this would almost certainly guarantee my being asked to leave. So I asked Sarge if this would be alright, and she said the little girl would be fine. We already know I have a lot to learn about child raising, and just because I think something is odd, doesn’t mean it isn’t the entirely appropriate thing to do, and so Sarge’s approval on the matter was enough for me. I grabbed her by the hands and we started slow and gradually built up speed to the point where she could no longer keep up and she started flying in the air. All I could think about, as I started getting tired, was that she was not a discus and I couldn’t just let go. Most fortunately I did not let go and we both came to stop and wobbled around a bit from the dizziness. She wanted to go again, but I said I couldn’t so she ran off to whatever new thing had grabbed her attention.
And just a second later she was back asking me to put her on her shoulders. I asked her if we shouldn’t get better acquainted first, but she was insistent. I knelt down with my back to her to let her climb up but she didn’t get very far, and told me she couldn’t climb on. I asked her how to get her on my shoulders if she couldn’t climb on and she told me I had to lift her on. At first I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to lift her up and on. I can’t lift her from behind me, but after a little thought I finally puzzled through the physics. You’re supposed to pick them up from their behind and lift them up and over your head. And that worked fine.
Her six year old brother saw this and decided he wanted to play too. But he didn’t want on my shoulder, he wanted to play pirates and he started attacking me with his sword. Fortunately he didn’t swing it hard. Instead he was more like a fly. Yeah, they won’t hurt you but you can’t but help swatting it away. I grabbed it and started trying to pull it away, but he held on tight. So I started lifting and turning, essentially causing him to lift off the ground much like his sister before. Then he let go, but his hand got hurt in this process, I think it got a little pinched, and he was sort of crying. But I knew that while it must have hurt some, it couldn’t have hurt as much as his theatrics were trying to convey. I told him I knew he was faking and I wasn’t giving back the sword, and after trying a little bit more, he realized he was caught and ran over to the swing. I felt like I was in American Gladiators as he started swinging it at me like a big ball on a rope. Now I realize I could have simply walked away, or done any number of things here, but what I felt was a good idea was to kick it. I noticed it was at about a perfect height for me to kick it right back at him and hard. I thought it might hit him hard, but he had his hands up as he was pushing and they would stop it just fine. On the next push I kicked it back at him and hard. Oh my. It went a lot faster than I thought and for whatever the reason he had put his hands down, so it hit him right in the side of the face. And now he screamed for real. Realizing I was about to be thrown out of the party I prepared myself for the oncoming onslaught of furious mothers and generally everyone else at the party. But apparently no one saw because no one got up or even looked until after the screams occurred. They saw me go over to him and wrongly figured that this grown man must have some experience consoling children so I guess they considered the matter resolved and went back to their conversations. He was just hollering up a storm and even though I bent down and hugged him telling him he would be okay, it wasn’t working. Cutely his sister, still on my shoulders, patted him on the shoulders and told him he would be alright. I even offered him the sword. He reached out to grab it, but I said he still wasn’t getting it and pulled it away. That didn’t stop him from hollering any but I got a laugh out of it. At this point I realized he was going to be fine, despite the very real pain he had to be suffering through. Eventually Momma came over and did what they do best, and got him to settle down a bit. She asked, “what happened.” “The swing just hit him right in the head.” “Oh yes, these things happen.”
Knowing he was in good hands I left him be with his Mom and his sister started directing me around. But soon enough we were back by the swing, and not three minutes after I kicked that swing he was back again ready to go. He said that this time I was supposed to kick it as hard as I could and he would get out of the way really fast. I said no let’s not do this. He tried to insist, but being 3 minutes wiser I walked away. And with no sword he decided to try shooting fake laser beams at me. All’s well that ends well.
At this party I only knew a few of the people. Fortunately some of those people are very old and dear friends so I had a few folks to talk to. But they had friends and family visiting and it was a large party and it wasn’t like they were going to be babysit me the entire time so occasionally I had to keep myself entertained. Fortunately there were a ton of little kids running around. At one point I was by a swing hanging from a tree which is for little babies, because they can be strapped into it, when one little three year old came running up and asked me to make her fly. That seemed safe enough so I picked her up as quick as I could and took her as high as my arms would go. I was shocked about how easy this was. I thought she’d be a lot heavier. I did it again and this time I got her into the leaves of the tree which I thought was pretty neat, but one nearby Mommy, Sarge, told me to be careful. So I put her down and she ran off.
Not a moment later she was back, this time asking me to swing her by the arms. While I understood the mechanics of her request, it seemed like a horrific idea. I was already a stranger to most of these people, and I didn’t know if they’d be very pleased seeing me swinging one of the young ones around by her arms. I imagine most people would not like strangers flailing their children about by the arms. Also, I was concerned that during this swinging about that her arms might rip off her body. I felt that this would almost certainly guarantee my being asked to leave. So I asked Sarge if this would be alright, and she said the little girl would be fine. We already know I have a lot to learn about child raising, and just because I think something is odd, doesn’t mean it isn’t the entirely appropriate thing to do, and so Sarge’s approval on the matter was enough for me. I grabbed her by the hands and we started slow and gradually built up speed to the point where she could no longer keep up and she started flying in the air. All I could think about, as I started getting tired, was that she was not a discus and I couldn’t just let go. Most fortunately I did not let go and we both came to stop and wobbled around a bit from the dizziness. She wanted to go again, but I said I couldn’t so she ran off to whatever new thing had grabbed her attention.
And just a second later she was back asking me to put her on her shoulders. I asked her if we shouldn’t get better acquainted first, but she was insistent. I knelt down with my back to her to let her climb up but she didn’t get very far, and told me she couldn’t climb on. I asked her how to get her on my shoulders if she couldn’t climb on and she told me I had to lift her on. At first I couldn’t understand how I was supposed to lift her up and on. I can’t lift her from behind me, but after a little thought I finally puzzled through the physics. You’re supposed to pick them up from their behind and lift them up and over your head. And that worked fine.
Her six year old brother saw this and decided he wanted to play too. But he didn’t want on my shoulder, he wanted to play pirates and he started attacking me with his sword. Fortunately he didn’t swing it hard. Instead he was more like a fly. Yeah, they won’t hurt you but you can’t but help swatting it away. I grabbed it and started trying to pull it away, but he held on tight. So I started lifting and turning, essentially causing him to lift off the ground much like his sister before. Then he let go, but his hand got hurt in this process, I think it got a little pinched, and he was sort of crying. But I knew that while it must have hurt some, it couldn’t have hurt as much as his theatrics were trying to convey. I told him I knew he was faking and I wasn’t giving back the sword, and after trying a little bit more, he realized he was caught and ran over to the swing. I felt like I was in American Gladiators as he started swinging it at me like a big ball on a rope. Now I realize I could have simply walked away, or done any number of things here, but what I felt was a good idea was to kick it. I noticed it was at about a perfect height for me to kick it right back at him and hard. I thought it might hit him hard, but he had his hands up as he was pushing and they would stop it just fine. On the next push I kicked it back at him and hard. Oh my. It went a lot faster than I thought and for whatever the reason he had put his hands down, so it hit him right in the side of the face. And now he screamed for real. Realizing I was about to be thrown out of the party I prepared myself for the oncoming onslaught of furious mothers and generally everyone else at the party. But apparently no one saw because no one got up or even looked until after the screams occurred. They saw me go over to him and wrongly figured that this grown man must have some experience consoling children so I guess they considered the matter resolved and went back to their conversations. He was just hollering up a storm and even though I bent down and hugged him telling him he would be okay, it wasn’t working. Cutely his sister, still on my shoulders, patted him on the shoulders and told him he would be alright. I even offered him the sword. He reached out to grab it, but I said he still wasn’t getting it and pulled it away. That didn’t stop him from hollering any but I got a laugh out of it. At this point I realized he was going to be fine, despite the very real pain he had to be suffering through. Eventually Momma came over and did what they do best, and got him to settle down a bit. She asked, “what happened.” “The swing just hit him right in the head.” “Oh yes, these things happen.”
Knowing he was in good hands I left him be with his Mom and his sister started directing me around. But soon enough we were back by the swing, and not three minutes after I kicked that swing he was back again ready to go. He said that this time I was supposed to kick it as hard as I could and he would get out of the way really fast. I said no let’s not do this. He tried to insist, but being 3 minutes wiser I walked away. And with no sword he decided to try shooting fake laser beams at me. All’s well that ends well.
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