The House that Pukes Kids

There is a local family that invites Amber and me over for lunch on a regular basis.  Sunday dinner is a gathering of three generations, approximately thirteen people, in a house near the church.  We know this family so well that we don't even knock before walking it.

Rather than briefing first-timer Kevin on the chaos he was about to encounter, we spent the ride there discussing some of our best pranks.  Those we've pulled and those that have been pulled on us.  The appropriate and the inappropriate.  The hilarious and the flops.

When we got there, we pulled the conversation to a temporary halt (primarily because I was telling alcohol-related stories and those are frowned upon in Baptist Country).  Amber pulled open the back door and I followed her in.  Behind me I heard a thud.

Kevin said as he was about to step inside the house, an eleven year old girl tumbled onto the ground from inside the wall.  She was quickly followed by her three year old cousin wrapped in one of Granddaddy's dress shirts.  They both laughed hysterically when Kevin jumped.

Amber and I were thoroughly amused but we knew there was still one missing.  I walked back and looked into the hole in the wall.  Sure enough, there was my six year old "boyfriend" with a pair of boxers on his head.

I guess the original plan had been to lure the three of us into the bathroom, together, and scare us by popping out of the top of the laundry shoot.  Well, that wasn't good enough.  Instead, they rolled out the side of it.

It definitely goes on the list of best pranks!

<>< Katie

Disclaimer: No one was hurt in the making of this blog.  The laundry shoot is like a built-in cabinet basket that opens in the laundry room on the other side of the wall.  The author claims no responsibility for any injuries that result from attempting similar pranks.

Trinity Sunday

"I have a favor to task of you," I said, looking up and backwards, searching to find Pastor Mike's face.  As with most conversations we've had, PM had me in a headlock.

"You do?"  he asked, spinning me around again.  I was glad today's greeting didn't involve his binder pounding on my head.  That's apparently reserved for the days when I already have a headache.

"Can I borrow your keys?"

"For?"

Dang it.  Had I really hoped the senior pastor of a megachurch would willingly surrender his keys to some mischievous members?

"Pastor Russ's office."  I quickly began to explain the situation in the briefest of terms.  I also regretted not chasing down Pastor Jim (PT) instead.  To PT, all I would have needed to say was, "It's Trinity Sunday" and the keys would have been mine.

"Well--" PM started.  I knew what was coming: no.  It's understandable.  You can't have three girls unchaperoned in a pastor's office, even if it is Trinity Sunday.

"We won't touch anything," I added, holding my hands in the air.  PM's face softened to a smile.

"I already saw the balloons," he said, reaching through his robe and into his pocket to pull out his keys.  "And touch anything you'd like," he added with a laugh.

Yes!  Pastor Mike has always liked me.  Something to do with his being the father of four girls and my being the oldest of three.  Either that or the fact that we were pranking Pastor Russ.

Drums and I tried not to run as we headed down the office hallway and back to our heap of balloons outside PR's office door.  The hard work had been done.  The Athanasian Creed had been cut apart line by line.  Each line had been shoved into a balloon.  The balloons had been blown up and the key obtained.  Now the fun stuff: the decorating.

We didn't have enough hot air, I mean, balloons to fill the office.  Unfortunate!  Instead we filled every nook and cranny we could fine.  A few under his desk, another behind the guitar, some on the bookshelf, one in the Easter basket, one next to the Jesus doll... more or less, everywhere.  We even taped one to his desk that read "Trinity Sunday" and one to his door that read "Athanasian Creed."  Now everyone that walks by will be curious as to why PR's office door became a bulletin board... today.

You see, this is a four-year tradition.  The first year Melissa and I were caught red-handed.  We had the Creed in a plethora of different languages taped to his door.  He thought it was hate mail from the "Sex Sermon" he'd done on the 6th Commandment the week before.  We learned PT felt left out so the following year we used 12-inch white letters to write "Athanasian" down PR's door and "Creed" up PT's.  I was in Costa Rica for the third year, but Dawn and Melissa decorated the door with the Creed... on Post-It notes.

A few weeks ago, Trinity Sunday talk began on facebook.
Melissa: This week is Pentecost.  You know what that means next week is?
Pastor Russ: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooo... just kidding.
Katie: Pastor Russ is just kidding.  He likes Trinity Sunday.
PR: I like Trinity Sunday.  I just don't like "Let's celebrate Trinity Sunday on Pastor Russ's office door."
Katie: We could celebrate Trinity Sunday in Pastor Russ's office, if that would be better.
Dawn: OOOHH!  I want in!
Somewhere in here a secret leaked that PR would be out of town this weekend.  We started an email conversation.
Katie: Let me get this straight, you're fleeing on Trinity Sunday, leaving your office open for whatever cockamamie scheme we develop?
PR: My office may be boobie trapped.  Enter at you own risk.
Katie: For the Trinity, we're willing to risk it.

And we did.  PR congratulated us on another clever and successful Trinity Sunday.  (Even though he'd popped half of the balloons before discovering the Creed was inside of them).  Rumor has it PT felt left out again.  We'll have to fix that next year.  Any ideas?

<>< Katie

PS: Happy birthday, Drums!

Wham

I really love that this is Celebration Week for one reason and one reason only: Nikki is busy being Captain of Logistics, so I can say all sorts of facetious things about her, and she won't see them for a few days. :-)

This morning I read StorytellERdoc write, "I thought I might be getting pranked by one of my smart-ass friends. Why do I let those types into my life?" Instantly, Nikki was laughing as she sat in the forefront of my mind.

Not a half-hour earlier I ate breakfast with her where she reiterated her enjoyment in this new-found game of licking things to gross me out. Did you know: supposedly if someone licks you on the back of the arm just above the elbow you don't feel it. Part of me hopes that's true, so I don't have to feel it when Nikki tries. The other part of me prays it's not because then she'll be sneak-attacking me around every corner. I'll never be able to wear short-sleeved shirts in her presence again!

"Sorry, I'm late," she said sitting down at breakfast with me. My bagel (with extra cream cheese) was half eaten already. "My hair decided it wanted to be uncooperative today."

"I'm sorry," I said with a smile, I understand all too well what it's like to be the victim of uncooperative hair.

"It's ok. Who really cares if my hair has this need to stick straight up on my head? Not me. There are much worse things that can go wrong than uncooperative hair."

I like that positive attitude. I need that positive attitude. This is why I let the smart alec types in my life: sometimes they make good points and the rest of the time they just make me laugh and squirm. With Nikki, even though one of her main goals in life is to vex me as she picks at my "particular personality," I still love her and desperately need her friendship and joy in my life.

<>< Katie

Ok, so I lied about why I love Celebration Week. I really love it because it gives our campus an opportunity to unite as "one voice, one spirit, one heart to praise Him. We are the body of Christ." Annoying Nikki without her knowledge is just an added bonus and a delightful change to the norm!