Full Hand

Gavin had his first ever vacation bible school class yesterday. I came early to watch him. And it's a good thing I did. He was seriously ornery between not dancing and singing with the group, having some small object in his mouth that didn't belong, among other things, I watched in near horror. After almost thirty minutes of holding myself back from disciplining him right there, he finally noticed me and he looked at me like, "oh crap." As we left the school his teacher made a comment to me.  We left and he was calmly lectured and questioned on the ride home. I was disappointed.

Later when Shannon arrived home, Gavin said to him, "My teacher called me a bad word." Shannon replies, "Oh yeah, what's that?" I am waiting and listening to hear what this is about. Gavin says, "She said I was a full hand."  Hiding our smiles, Shannon rephrases, "You mean she said you were a handful."  Gavin, "Yes a handful."  This is just the comment the teacher made as we were leaving. No shit lady, why do you think I'm sending him to Vacation Bible School?  Mamma needs a break and the kid could use a little Jesus!  Just kidding, well sort of! Truthfully, I was very disappointed. What mother wants to be told her kid is a handful?  I know he's a handful at times; I live with him. But he can also be an extremely sweet boy and that's the boy you hope he is with other people. The amount of fear inside me that if we can't get him to behave at four, especially in public, what kind of repercussions will we have when he's 14?  I turn to prayer and I continue to pray that we make the right decisions with him and that he makes the right choices. I pray for our wisdom and his. God knows he's smart, but we could all use a little wisdom, or maybe a lot.

Footnote: At 18, nearly every adult that has gotten to know or work with you praises us with how well we have done raising you.