Dough Bowl and Poopy Bum

Oh, Sunbeams. They sure know how to make a Sunday fun. Every week is a new adventure; sometimes every minute. Take today: There were only two of them, Max and Della, but that was all it took to keep things fun from beginning to end.

From Beginning:

The lesson was on families so I brought some of my family photos to help me explain how people are related. They LOVED looking at those. As Max studied one picture he would glance up at me then concentrate back down on the photo, up at me, back down, and on and on. After about a half a minute of this he announced, "You're DOUGH bowl!"

When he talks I usually get this mental image of his tongue doggie paddling through an ocean of saliva. It's exhausted. At any moment a wave will crash down upon it and all will be over; there will be saliva everywhere and Max will never speak again. However, it had been three weeks since I last taught the class and in that short amount of time it was if his tongue had learned a simple stroke that gave him a fighting chance against small waves. Despite the improvements, I had no idea what he meant. I smiled at him and he went back to studying the picture. He glanced at me and back at the photo then stated, "Yeah, you're DOUGH bowl."

I had no clue what he was getting at so I asked, "Max what does that mean?"

He pried his eyes from the picture to give me a look that said, "Are you stupid?" then responded, "You know... DOUGH bowl."

Nope, not at all (the only thing I could think of was that he thought I was either pale or squishy like dough - maybe both). Instead of pushing the matter I replied, "Oooh, okay."

He seemed satisfied and went back to studying the picture. Right then Della piped in, "You do look adorable!" That's what he was telling me! Thank goodness 4-year-olds understand one another so I could appreciate what Max was trying to tell me.

I have a feeling that if he ever gets a handle on the whole speaking thing he's going to be a little heart breaker.

To End:

Towards the end of the lesson Della announced, "I need to go poopy!" Lesson over. I thought it was best not to wait so the three of us headed to the women's restroom. Max didn't need to go so he paced back and forth and slid along the wall. Then, two things happened at once: Max decided to open and close the main door to the bathroom while Della decided to give us a very loud play-by-play of her efforts to relieve herself

"Doo-da-doo. . . I still have to go poopy!"

grunting

"This is going to take a while!"

grunting

"I'm still not done!"

more grunting

"Whoa! This is a BIIIIG one!"

I'm trying to get both of them to alter what they're doing ("Max, come keep me company"; "Della, inside voice, please") when the future sports broadcaster announces she is done and takes me by surprise:

"I need you to wipe my bum! I don't know how."

What? Did I hear that correctly?

"You can come in now. I unlocked the door but don't let Max in. . . MAX! STAY THERE! YOU CAN'T COME IN!"

Unfortunately, I had heard correctly and was now faced with the task of wiping a four-year-old's poopy bum. I've never had to do that in my life and had no desire to do it at that moment. When I agreed to substitute for the regular teacher she did not mention that this was part of the job. When I taught the class for a six week stretch earlier this summer I NEVER had to wipe anyone's rear end that whole time. I wasn't quite sure what to do so I said the first thing I thought of (outside of "Your mom and dad are both just around the corner in the Primary room. With Max opening and closing the door they probably know their child needs her bum wiped. Why aren't they coming to help?"). I said, "Okay, Della, can you hold your dress up and stand?"

"NO!" she replied. "I'm going to hold your leg!"

Still seated on the toilet she leaned forward, practically folding herself in half, and put my leg in a death grip. She did all this before I even had time to react to what she had said. The next thing I knew I was losing circulation to my right leg and trying to reposition myself to accomplish the task at hand without making her fall from her perch (not easy to do with a child latched to your leg).

A few wipes later and I was no longer able to claim that I had never wiped a poopy bum. I said the magic words, "All done." She released her hold on my leg, jumped off the toilet, pulled up her panties and left the stall. She left me to flush the toilet.

Lions and tigers and Sunbeams - Oh My!

The first week I went to church here the very pregnant Sunbeam teacher found out that I wasn't just a visitor - that I'd be living up here for a while. She told me her baby was due that Friday and asked if I could teach her class for at least a month. How do you turn down a pregnant lady when she asks you a favor in a church? Would you be haunted by the ghost of Christmas past (way past) for years to come if you did? So, despite the fact that I've rarely been around children for long periods of time (especially ones without older siblings that I can pawn off various babysitting duties to), I agreed.

Shocked to learn. . .

Sometimes at the end of a run I like to throw in a sprint before I cool down. I blame "runner's high" for the brilliant idea I had this evening that:

speed = hurdling prowess.

It does not, nor does it compensate for using an electric fence as a hurdle.
If that wasn't enough to scare me away from trying to jump over anything ever again, I found this picture:


As best as I can tell this runner starts out as a she. You might think that the arm hanging out the back of her head and the fat bulge on her leg helped me come to this conclusion but I'd have to say the real give-away was the added support in the bust area. However, by the time she reaches the hurdle she is definitely a man.
I was feeling lucky that the electric fence was not on but now, that I understand the dangers associated with this sport, I'm glad I didn't clear the fence.

Dippyland

We had one more stop before bringing our vacation to a close. . . Disneyland/California Adventures! We spent our first day completely soaked after we went on Splash Mountain. Here's a picture that points out what was left dry after we splashed down:

Amanda's brave efforts on our vacation to put her fears aside and try new things inspired me. I got up my courage and went on the Ferris Wheel only to realize I would not be overcoming any fears with that ride. It did not take me long to come to the conclusion that what California Adventures offers does not constitute a real Ferris Wheel.
No one has died on it and, chances are, the only way someone will is if the batteries in their pacemaker die first. No, this is not your standard traveling carnival ride. The seats aren't made of rotting 2x4's or layers of cardboard glued together. There are no signs posted on the back of the seats in front of you that read, "Enjoy your ride! (Movement of any kind can, and will, result in your death.)" If the ride stops for some unknown reason (to the rider) you don't hear the operator calling Junior over from operating another ride; you do not watch as he puts his hand in his son's mouth, pulls wire off the boy's braces then uses it to reattach mechanical components on your ride.
Other than that disappointment there was a lot of fun to be had. Dad went on the Teacups for the first time in years (although there was no spinning involved):

We saw the world through the eyes of bugs:

and went on rides for the first time:

Zihuantanejo

Our last port. I finally put my 4 semesters of Spanish to use thanks to our taxi driver. He discovered that I understood (some of) what was going on and started speaking to me. He told me a funny joke (which I can't remember now) and I was able to explain to him that Mormon men don't have a handful of wives.

He took us to a lagoon about 20 miles away from the port city. Dad and mom wandered around the beach there while Amanda and I rented a kayak and proceeded to have an interesting adventure. This was not due to any wild animals (aside from birds the wildest animal we saw was bull tied to a pole) or any destructive forces of nature (there was a small current we occasionally had to work against). Nope, neither one. It was figuring out how to work together to get the kayak to go the way we wanted. I blamed her and she probably should have blamed me more, but in the end we were able to work our way around the lagoon and some of its outlets.

Once back in Zihuantanejo we wandered around close to the dock where I finally got a picture of one of these:I thought that bikes like this only existed in Nacho Libre but I was proven wrong. I wish I would have had one to cart groceries home with when I lived in Hawaii. I wish I had one now and I live 20 miles away from the nearest grocery store. I'm sure I could find other things to cart home though: cows, chickens, asparagus. . .

I also couldn't resist taking a photo of what has to be one of the nicest hardware/auto stores I have ever seen. I wonder if mechanically challenged people feel more comfortable walking in and asking for help.

Manzanillo

We split up in Manzanillo once again. This time Dad and I took a boat across the bay and went snorkeling while Amanda and mom spent their time at the beach and shopping. Unfortunately, no one took a camera.

On our boat ride back to the ship Dad and I were spectators to a drinking contest. I learned that Canadians can down beer in nothing flat.

Puerta Vallarta

This port meant adventure. Lots of adventure. It started out with a ride in a speed boat across the bay and then went a little like this:

A ride in this,
on this,
down and across these,

down this,and this,
a surprise splash,
a walk across this,
a race to the finish (I won),
more time in one of these,
some time at the beach,
and another speed boat back across the bay.
We also made some new friends. Okay, maybe that term is being used a little loosely but the people at Vallarta Adventures were great and Oscar (the guy next to me) kept telling me that I was his new best friend. ha ha
I would definitely do this again. I've added a link in case this is also something that you are also interested in. Thanks Vallarta Adventures!