When I was in first grade, our class planned a huge Thanksgiving meal. A feast for a six year old, with moms providing pie, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and our teacher bringing in the turkey. I can still remember making the butter in class - shaking it in a jar or some such method.
What excitement! What a break from the normal reading lessons and sack lunches!
So when that day approached, and I arrived at school with a little tummy-ache, I kept it to myself. No pain was going to stop me from partaking of rolls smothered with that butter.
The preparations ensued, and then quite suddenly, before I had a chance to touch those rolls, I had to use the restroom and quickly got permission. Before I could make it there, I had an experience very much like the one that Colin had in Bobby's car the other day.
And so I had to go home before that glorious meal.
This is the all-too-true story I repeated to Colin on Saturday. You see, our ward Trunk-or-Treat was that night, and Colin was still having his "accidents" every few hours and Gabe had spent the previous night with a bowl next to him. Candy, cake walks, and passing-of-the-germs were definitely out the question for the whole family.
As you can imagine, Colin was pretty devastated, so his daddy came up with a cheerful plan for our evening home.
We would build a fort in the living room, and then eat dinner and watch a movie in there.
