We are in a short series of Revival meetings at our little country church. Over the years, with children and ladies and homeschool and all the many things that occupied our time, We would often hire someone to come in and watch the ladies so I could go to church and enjoy the meeting without distractions. But Cecilia and Nettie go to church with us on Sunday mornings, and I decided against trying to find someone for this week.
Yesterday afternoon, after lunch was pretty much cleared away, I went in to Nettie’s room and said, “Nettie, we have church tonight.”
She looked up in her usual Sunday afternoon sleepiness and said, “Do I hafta’ go?”
“Yes, I think you will. I don’t have anyone to watch you and Cecilia, so I thought you could just go along.”
She looked a little displeased, but said, “What time do I hafta’ be ready?”
“Six-thirty,” I told her. “We’ll probably try to get out of here around then.”
She snuffled around a bit, but didn’t fuss too much. She has been very comfortable with the women of our church, and she had not been to Sunday School yesterday morning because Middle Daughter had worked the night before, got in very late in the morning and opted to stay home with Nettie and Cecilia. I suspected that she really wasn’t too upset.
We had a good service last evening, and even though we were done by around eight o’clock, people hung around and talked. I wanted to get my ladies home because Nettie likes to be in bed by nine o’clock. But the fellowship was sweet, and before we knew what was happening, once again, it was almost 9:30 and it was Gary, Robert and Loretta and Certain Man and me — and our two ladies, sitting in their chairs at the back of the sanctuary. Robert and Gary locked up and turned out the lights, Certain Man went and got the van, and I got Cecilia’s shoes on her and gathered up the various belongings and headed out. Certain Man helped Cecilia down over the troublesome front foyer steps and out into the car, and I made sure that Nettie didn’t need help with her seat belt.
“I tell you what,” said Our Girl Nettie as we pulled out of the parking lot, “Cecilia and I are nuffin’ but a pain in nuh neck!”
“Don’t say that, Nettie,” I said good naturedly. “You are NOT a pain in the neck!”
“I ‘fink we are — ” she ventured.
“Nope,” says Certain Man, who teases Nettie whenever he gets a good chance (to her great delight — she loves him to death) “You guys aren’t a pain in the neck, you’re a pain in the BUTT!!!”
That made her laugh, but I got to thinking about who was really inconveniencing whom, and I said, “You know, Nettie, Daniel and I are the real pains in the neck. You guys wait and wait and are so patient and we stay around and stay around church and never go home ’till the last cat dies, and you never complain–“
“I doan wan’ you never to mention ‘at to me again!” I heard a very firm voice in the back seat say. It had a tenor I have seldom heard. I was very confused.
“What are you saying, Nettie?” I asked. Was she really being so protective of Certain Man’s and my right to stay at church as long as we wanted?
“I doan wan’ you never to mention ‘at to me again!” Firmer voice. No edge of laughter.
H-m-m-m-m-m-m. I looked over in the darkness at Certain Man. He was clearly as puzzled as I was.
“I got you covered, Nettie-Girl!”
(If you don’t understand this post, see my September 22, 2010 posting)