R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Saturday evening and early Sunday morning are usually my most stressful hours of the week. That is when my phone starts ringing off the hook with "Hey, I won't make it to teach Sunday school tomorrow" texts and calls. My mom, bless her, usually ends up stepping in to substitute every week. Last week, things got so desperate I had to call in...MY DAD.

I had been less than subtle when voicing my concerns about putting Big Jim in with a room full of toddlers, but I was desperate and I figured with my mom in there as well, things would be fine. Mom could teach the lesson and love the kids, while dad could stand by the door and use his "stern face" on any of the kids who might consider trying to escape.

30 minutes after parking my parents in a Sunday school room full of 3 year olds, I came back to check on them expecting to find the room looking like it was...well, a room full of 3 year olds. Typically during playtime the 3 year old room has toys strewn about, at least 2 kids running around with buckets on their heads, and Goldfish crackers being thrown like confetti. Instead, I found each child quietly seated at the table, eating their snack neatly, listening intently to my dad tell the Bible story while my mom refilled the snack cups. I stood at the door in awe and then my dad just turned around and smirked at me.

I came back at the end of class and asked the kids if they'd liked having Mr. Jim and Mrs. Pat as teachers. They said "Yes!" I said, "How many of you want to have Mr. Jim as a teacher again next week?" They nearly fell out of their chairs in their rush to raise their hands. WHAAAAT. MIND BLOWN.