Vacation Bible School

Edmund had his first taste of vacation bible school this week. Needless to say, he got through it, but he was not happy about it. He is three and our home church won't take him until next year. Nevertheless, I probably won't send him then either.



We went to the kick off preview at our church. All of the theatrics, special effects, lights and noise were too much. Edmund has sensory problems. He prefers small quiet and calm groups. That is something that Concord Quest will never be described as...



So, we toke him to the neighborhood Church of Christ. I grew up largely Church of Christ and can tell you that the services I remember from my childhood could be no more sedate. Imagine our surprise when we walked our son in on the first day to see the entire church transformed into a jungle complete with vines and sounds! There were children everywhere and tons of teens and preteens helping out. The place was organized chaos.



Edmund immediately decided he wanted nothing to do with any of it. I, on the other hand, was looking forward to a mini-break. School was from 8:30-noon each day and I would only have to deal with 'destructo-boy' Spencer. So, when we went into the auditorium to find Edmund's class amid blaring music (since when does the Church of Christ have music?), running cave people, and LOTS of white noise, Edmund clung to my skirt for dear life and started to cry. Feeling no pity, I told him that he would be fine, physically pried him from my skirt and handed him to his teacher. He sobbed pitifully, clinging to his stuffed bunny for dear life. I left swiftly without looking back in case someone stopped me and told me I had to take him home.



We repeated this scene everyday. Last night was the closing ceremony. Each group was to sing three songs. Edmund had to wear his VBS t-shirt, a thought that baffled him as I generally don't allow the boys to wear uncollared shirts outside the house. On the way to drop off, he told me three times not to take any pictures. (Edmund speak for please get at least one shot but not a gazillion.) He didn't want to go into his class's anteroom any more than he wanted to be dropped off in the mornings.



I rushed back home to get Robert and Spence. Edmund's group would go first and I didn't want to miss it. It was his first ensemble effort. When the three and four year old classes marched in we sat on the end of an aisle breathlessly scanning the throng for our son. No, Edmund. "Did you drop him in the right class?" my husband asked. Of course. "Where is he?" "How should I know?" I countered. Finally, a handler brought him in and sat with him in the front row placing a very frightened child clinging to a very raggedy bunny on her lap. The teen scanned the crowd.



I had already taken several shots which, according to my view finder, were guaranteed not to come out. I told Robert that I was going to skirt the outside aisle to see if I could get a better picture. The fresh faced teen pointed me out to Edmund as I tried to get in position. Edmund is terribly shy. He was clearly terrified but trying to be brave. From his prospective, there must have been a myriad of digital cameras, I-Phones and camcorders. I signed that his father and I were watching him and that I loved him very much. He started to cry. So much for my picture.



Edmund didn't particpate at all. I suppose I was lucky he stayed on stage. A relieved worker handed a nearly traumatized child to Robert. I kissed him three times on the cheek to let him know how proud I was of him. Edmund blushed at such a public display of affection. Robert said that that was 'quite enough'.



Neither Edmund or my husband wanted to stay thorough the entire program. There was going to be dinner and games. No dice. They both took a turn on a moonwalk while everyone else was inside. Spencer wandered onto the playground. Edmund said that he wanted to stay for a hot dog. Robert snuck him one which he took a bite out of and was finished. Spencer ate most of it. Spencer eats everything. Robert became insistent that it was time to take the boys home. He said that Edmund didn't look well. I sighed knowing that neither one of them was relishing the thought of mingling with the other parents and children at event's end. Then, feeling the need to placate them both, I felt Edmund's forehead. He was warm and clammy. The boy had literally worried himself sick.