Unidentified person: Nice haircut, Zach, you must be beating the girls off with a stick!
Confirmed bachelor Zach: Naw, I just beat them off with my awesome personality.
4 yr old Kaitlyn: I can speak fwee languages!
Jess: Really, which ones!?
Kaitlyn: Russian, English.... and American!!!
I baby sat at church Friday for a quarterly event that lets parents who teach Sunday School have a kid-free night to thank them. Parents drop their kids off and go out to dinner or run errands (or, at this time of year- Christmas shop).
Trapped in a roomful of variously aged children (including the aforementioned Kaitlyn), I let myself be persuaded to attend a picnic, featuring an incredibly random assortment of plastic food and a tiny table. Unfortunately, faced with the opportunity to practice her medicinal skills on a real live
adult guinea pig, the leader of the pack declared that I was sick and needed medical attention. I was reluctantly persuaded to recline on a giant stuffed dog and thus began my most frightening medical experience to date. I was soon surrounded by a horde of children who favorite refrain was, "This is going to hurt." I was poked and prodded by a wide variety of extremely suspicious-looking surgical implements. My neck was put through what I feel was a completely unnecessary procedure involving an eggbeater and a handheld drill. All I got in recovery was a pretend band-aid and a plastic tomato. In addition, although my surgeons claimed that the medicinal use of butter on post-surgical wounds was widely accepted in traditional medicine, I had my doubts.
Although I appreciated the constant supply of plastic ice cream sundaes that this establishment obviously felt to be critical to recovery, I drew the line when I heard someone behind me whisper, "Let's put stuff in her hair!" Last I heard as I ran out of the room, the children were trying to persuade one of their own to take my place. Unfortunately for them, only a grownup would be dumb enough to volunteer.