With, The Incredibles, being one of our current library rentals, you will hopefully understand my thought process as I describe how it was to sit with our three children at Church without you there.
Elastigirl’s super powers, in my opinion, never quite measured up in terms of awesomeness when compared to Mr. Incredible’s strength, the insane speed (not to mention endless abundance of energy) of Dash or my personal favorite, the force field/power to be invisible combination of Violet. She scored two powers: double w.o.w.
It’s true that Elastigirl proves her skills to be valuable throughout the film, but if I were to compile a super hero résumé, the skill set ‘extreme flexibility’ fails to strike a chord of fear. Returning to Church on Sunday:
As I arrived at our regular side pew, I strategically planted myself near the aisle in an attempt to blockade Lottie from a premature exit. Henry was just out of reach as I watched him push his toy car back and forth on the bench. As his car made contact with the wall, the image of Elastigirl’s out stretched arm extending to tap Henry on the shoulder appeared in my mind. With a quite nod of my head, I would indicate that he was making too much noise and he would obediently cease.
The scene didn't unfold as smoothly as I imagined. I awkwardly shuffled Lottie (who was in my lap) and myself down toward his end of the bench to make the request, which was met with acceptance. Two seconds after shuffling back to the other end of the bench, he returned to driving, sound effects included, on the wall.
More than Henry, managing Lottie would be easier if I was Elastigirl. When it came time to take the Sacrament, I thought again of her magical elastic arm as I did my best to keep Lottie’s curious hands far from the tray while assisting the older kids. Seriously though, think how convenient it would be to rescue the binkies, pretzel pieces and crayons that she has thrown into the aisle or under the bench in front of where we sit?
Oh! And then, there’s that horribly awful, no good, gag inducing, diaper pail that’s kept in the Mother’s lounge. Every time I’m forced to open that thing, I worry that the fire alarm will go off. The odor is dangerous.After changing the dirty diaper that, like clock work, needs to be changed in the middle of Sacrament meeting, I would take that diaper and stretch my arm all the way to the land fill to avoid opening the stinky pail of death.
In terms of mood, Eliza wasn’t a picnic. Our row was sandwiched between the families of her two best pals. Instantly she assumed, “church playdate!” We butted heads over the need for her to stay seated in place on the bench vs. her want to hover closely as she stared over the shoulders of her friends as they colored.
And while I make light of the inconvenience of having you away, genuine feelings of stress weren't felt until we came home and learned that another wind warning was in effect.As I made preparations for a possible night without power, I felt and understood my need for you more completely. Thankfully, the storm passed without incident and my ability to safely start and maintain a fire remains unseen.
Here are a few pictures from Sunday afternoon.
We love and miss you.