Siren Song
We were halfway down the long hallway into our church's sanctuary this morning when it occured to me that the "special effects" button on the firefighter's helmet my son was wearing might be a problem. Push it, and a wailing fire truck siren sounds.
Now, you may question my judgement around letting him wear the firefighter's helmet into church in the first place. I questioned it, too. But sometimes, I just roll with what makes the kid happy rather than what social norms dictate.
Given that, I'm not okay with noisemaking, battery-operated toys in a religious service. So I did my best to remove the helmet from his possession as we entered, setting it beside me on the seat to keep it under my guard.
The introductory portion of the service was a bit drawn out--lots of announcements and talking of little interest to the kids--so our eldest got restless.
"Can I get a Worship Bag, Mama?" he asked. The Worship Bag contains a board book, laminated bookmarks for locating songs in the hymn book, and some pipe cleaners--a low-key, low-volume entertainment kit.
"Not now," I told him. "Wait until everyone is done talking."
I figured I'd let him cross the front of the church once the choir stood to sing its anthem. When I saw one of the choir members rise, I sent him scurrying for his target. It was then that I noticed the choir was not only standing but was on the move, heading to the stairs just a few feet in front of where we sat in the front pew. His re-entry, it seemed, was going to be slightly problematic.
As I signaled for our boy to dodge the choir director, who was now standing right next to our pew and blowing into a pitchpipe, I shifted in my seat to make room for the child, picking up the firefighter's helmet as I did so in order to move it out of the way. (Can you guess where this is going?)
I pushed the "special effects" button.
The siren sounded--just as an a capella soloist began to sing.
I dove under the pew to muffle the sound and to hide my face as much as possible.
When I had sat up again, my boy leaned over and asked sternly, "Mama, WHY did you push that button?"
I deserved it.
Now, you may question my judgement around letting him wear the firefighter's helmet into church in the first place. I questioned it, too. But sometimes, I just roll with what makes the kid happy rather than what social norms dictate.
Given that, I'm not okay with noisemaking, battery-operated toys in a religious service. So I did my best to remove the helmet from his possession as we entered, setting it beside me on the seat to keep it under my guard.
The introductory portion of the service was a bit drawn out--lots of announcements and talking of little interest to the kids--so our eldest got restless.
"Can I get a Worship Bag, Mama?" he asked. The Worship Bag contains a board book, laminated bookmarks for locating songs in the hymn book, and some pipe cleaners--a low-key, low-volume entertainment kit.
"Not now," I told him. "Wait until everyone is done talking."
I figured I'd let him cross the front of the church once the choir stood to sing its anthem. When I saw one of the choir members rise, I sent him scurrying for his target. It was then that I noticed the choir was not only standing but was on the move, heading to the stairs just a few feet in front of where we sat in the front pew. His re-entry, it seemed, was going to be slightly problematic.
As I signaled for our boy to dodge the choir director, who was now standing right next to our pew and blowing into a pitchpipe, I shifted in my seat to make room for the child, picking up the firefighter's helmet as I did so in order to move it out of the way. (Can you guess where this is going?)
I pushed the "special effects" button.
The siren sounded--just as an a capella soloist began to sing.
I dove under the pew to muffle the sound and to hide my face as much as possible.
When I had sat up again, my boy leaned over and asked sternly, "Mama, WHY did you push that button?"
I deserved it.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:07 PM
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