A Treat Is in the Ear of the Beholder (and Sometimes, All Over Her Face)

As someone who’s been accused of lifting anal tendencies to a whole new level, I can appreciate a lad’s linear thinking. Thus, I wasn’t surprised at Jack’s befuddlement at church a couple of weeks back.

It was a special occasion, when Luke was to line up on the steps of the altar with his preschool classmates to lift their voices in song. Of course, such performances are loaded with anticipation about who’s going to sing, who’s going to remain as tongue-tied as a shy high-schooler asking a girl to dance for the first time, who might start bawling, and, of course, who will steal the show with a faux pas and then run with it when peals of laughter encourage him to keep on keeping on with his shenanigans.

So, we kept our eyes and ears peeled for such shenanigans, the minister assured us, “I’ve heard these children sing, and I promise you, you’re in for a real treat!”

Literal-thinking Jack’s face contorted with puzzlement as he nudged closer to me and whispered, “Does that mean we’re going to get food?”

I smiled and recalled his reaction just a couple of years back when the previous minister had invited the youngsters up to circle at the foot of the altar for the children’s sermon. The minister told the circle of children he was going to tell them about Peanuts, without realizing that that age group knew little or nothing about that age-old comic strip.

Jack’s face peeked up from the cluster of children like a meerkat checking the outskirts of his colony as the lad mouthed this question to me: “Penis?”



I had to stifle a laugh at the fact not only that kids these days say the darndest things because they use the sophisticated for body parts that our parents never would have DREAMED teaching us such terms.

In this case, I whispered to him that, in this case, “treat” means a treat for the ears. (And, in this case, as in most other instances of youthful performers, they delivered a chorus that only a parent, or a grandparent, could enjoy. The others in the congregation endured it, albeit with smiles and, perhaps, memories of kids long grown and grandkids in far-off places.)

Unlike Luke’s previous appearance, when he mostly remained as mummified as an ancient Egyptian king, he chipped right in with song and gestures. Oh, his rhythm might have been off some, but I’m not one to criticize in that department.

Of course, a couple of girls carried the chorus in song and motion, and nobody really stole the show. Luke managed to fend off the pestering actions of the boy standing next to him.

Although Jack didn’t respond to the minister’s invitation to come forth for the kids sermon this time, he mulled the possibility when the minister said all children in the congregation could follow the youth minister to the craft room for the rest of the service.

“Jack,” I whispered, “are you going to go do crafts?”

“What will they DO to us?” he said skeptically.

He hesitated until the parade of children was almost out the door before joining. What did they do to him? Well, I think he did get a treat, as in a cookie or something, and they crafted pictures of colored windows.

Speaking of treats and grandkids, here’s one that just flew in through the cyberspace transom. Granddaughter Amelia chowing down, while grinning and smearing from ear to ear. Now this dish of spaghetti looks like a real treat gone rogue, uh, or should I say, rouge?