The Last WHAT?

           Our son, Brandon, from Los Angeles recently flew in around midnight, so his brother picked him up. We were in bed as he went into the kitchen and saw the 20 or so little figures of Jesus I was planning to give my Seminary students. They’re about an inch tall:

          Nearby I also had a weird little toy frog that I found in the back yard (tossed by a neighbor kid? Dropped by a hawk?) Well, you can’t let a pile of fun props go unnoticed, any more than you can not put googly eyes on your bananas.  So, even if though it was after midnight, Brandon created a wrestling match:

             The following night he created Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper, complete with table, table legs, plates, and food all made of paper:

                And I don’t have to tell you which one is Judas.

             This guy has been making art from odd materials ever since he was in kindergarten, when the wax coverings of Babybel cheese became dragons, knights, giraffes and monkeys. What can I say? I love the way his brain works.

          Be sure to watch short life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos, right here.

Falling for Seminary

           You know that I volunteer to teach a one-hour religion class to teenagers, before school, at 7 a.m., four days a week, right? And it’s the best assignment I’ve ever had.

          I truly love these kids and I pray for them by name. I’m also peeved that school has now ended and I won’t see them all summer. And I’ll have a completely different group this fall.

          I don't want to post photos without permission, so I won't show you the darling pictures I have of them. BUT... St. Bob makes the occasional appearance, and here he is as a hotdog, and as an olive:

          And here are just two of the many chalk quotations they put in the church parking lot: 

          So yes, I have fallen for this “job” and the kids themselves.  But that’s not the fall I want to tell you about. Just before the semester ended, they made music videos that tied into what they’re learning. They love doing this on their phones and they can edit like pros.

         At one point I was asked to be the videographer, holding one of their phones and shooting the action.

          It was like a good news/bad news moment.

          The good news is that I was helping the kids make a movie.

          The bad news is that I have dyspraxia and am super clumsy, so I shouldn’t be trusted to film anything.

The good news is that I could sit down to do it.

The bad news is that I lost my balance because I’m looking through a lens and twisting around on my chair.

The good news is that I captured their scene.

The bad news is that I fell smack onto the floor. Wearing a skirt.

The good news is that it was a long skirt.

The bad news is that I still fell on my butt in front of everyone.

The good news is that it was all captured on camera—wait—that’s also bad news. 

The good news is that I don’t have to post it here.  Whew!

But you can see me in my YoutubeMom videos, where I try not to be a complete klutz.

 

Sweet Dreams

        Someday I’m going to get pulled over for swerving in the vicinity of ice cream or candy shops, and on the news it will say, “She was driving at a glucose level of 15.8, which is twice the legal limit…”

          Okay, I really have no idea what the glucose numbers would actually be, but I do know that if my blood is drawn it can double as chocolate syrup for a sundae.

          At a check-up I was telling my doctor about my face plant fall, and he said I need to turn on the lights so I don’t break something next time.  “Otherwise,” he said, “you could end up in a nursing home. And they don’t have desserts in there.”

          “I could have someone bring me desserts,” I suggested.

          “You’re missing the point of the story,” he said.

          “So you say,” I told him, “but that factor could play into my decision.”

          He sighed.

See?” I said. “We’re both patient. Get it? You’re the adjective and I’m the noun. Fine, fine, I’ll keep the lights on.”

 I didn’t tell him that when Bob and I drove up to my Seminary class door the other day, I commented that the lights in my classroom were on, and Bob said, “But no one’s home.”

Hey, lights on or not, you can watch my Youtube Mom videos here.

         

Get Up and Go

           Here’s why St. Bob gets that title. He has been the best sport in the world, for letting me disguise him as object lessons for my Seminary class of 20 kids. For those unfamiliar with this, my new volunteer position at church is to teach early morning religion classes to teenagers. They attend at 7 a.m., before going to high school.

          When studying the 23^rd Psalm, I thought I’d dress him as a shepherd. Then I thought, “No-- I don’t want him to be a shepherd; I want him to be a sheep!” I found a black sheepskin jacket at a thrift shop, and attached long ears. He came in and told some corny dad jokes about sheep.

           Then, when teaching Proverbs, I dressed him as a fortune cookie. I had replaced all the regular fortunes in a box of fortune cookies, with Proverbs, and asked him to hand them out. Wish I’d used foam rubber for the costume. I think the cookie would have looked better. Live and learn.

          The latest get-up was wrapping him in a huge roll of paper so he could be a giant scroll like the ones Isaiah wrote on. I wrote Hebrew lettering inside (which doesn’t show in the photo). He came in jiving to “Soul Man” on his phone, and asked if that was what I wanted him to be. I said, “No—I wanted you to be Scroll man!”

          I have no idea what costumes lie in his future. But I’m guessing the guys are all thinking, “I hope I don’t marry a woman who asks me to do this,” and the girls are all thinking, “I hope I marry a man who would do this for me.”

He's also the cameraman for my Youtube Mom videos. He truly deserves a Great Hubby Award!

A Salami Occasion

          Our church does a really cool thing.  It runs a four-year program of daily religious study for high school kids, starting at 6:20 a.m. before their regular class schedule.  And they attend.  In droves.   

          You can imagine the discipline and commitment it takes. So it’s quite a big deal to get a four-year pin and a diploma. And right now, in early June, is when they have Seminary Graduation.

          However, the one thing Seminary cannot do is remove the monkey gene, if your kid has one.  And naturally, my mind goes back to the graduation ceremony of our son, Cassidy, when he achieved this honor ten years ago.  

          First, picture it.  We are all sitting in the chapel pews, dressed up for the occasion, excited to see him walk up when his name is called.  One by one other kids go up, receive their diplomas and pins, shake hands with a member of the Stake Presidency, and march confidently back to their seats.

          And then the speaker opens the next leather-bound diploma, and WITH A STRAIGHT FACE says into the mike, “Cassidy Thadwell Hilton the third, Junior.”

          Are you kidding me?  This solemn occasion, the culmination of four years of hard work, and our kid submits a fake name?  And they print it up and let him get away with it?

          Now, mind you, the speaker knows us.  He knows that if Cassidy is a junior, his father must have the same name, right?  But it’s Bob.  And nobody in the history of mankind, I believe, has ever been named “the third, junior.”  Thadwell is also a contrivance.

          There’s some snickering and I can feel my face reddening as people turn to stare at us. Yet our monkey boy is on his feet, proudly marching up to receive this bogus document.

          And he's apparently still up to his antics.  For one thing, I keep getting junk mail for “Gustav” Hilton and “Spanky” Hilton.  Hey, for all I know he faked his own birth certificate.  I wouldn’t put it past him.

Have you seen my YouTube Mom videos?  This is what happens after you raise four comedians.