Nursery work isn’t for meek

By By Leada Gore, Editor
One thing marriage has taught me is that you have to pick your times to deliver certain types of news.
Let’s say you ding the car or spend too much on new shoes. Such information would best be shared over a good dinner or a quiet evening out, not, say, in the same breath that you’re mentioning how he needs to pick up his shirt off the floor.
So, when I had news to share last week, I opted for the dinner table.
He just stared at me.
Earlier this year, our church had sent out a list of volunteer opportunities. Included on that list was the chance to work in the nursery. As we have a child that utilizes the nursery, it seemed only fair that we offer our services to help out in that area.
I assured Greg his nursery work would’t involve anything he didn’t want to do.
We arrived for our tour of duty and were assigned the 10-month-olds. There were six babies, four of whom were well behaved. Two of them were needier, wanting to be held, rocked and generally assured their parents will be coming back soon.
I took one of the fussier babies and Greg took the other. My young charge cried and cried. Greg’s toddler was quickly soothed and began playing with the others.
Thirty-minutes into the service, my little one was still crying. I rocked. I patted. I tried to feed him. I did everything but put him in my car and drive him around, something that used to work great with Sutton.
Meanwhile, Greg was supervising the happy children as they played on the floor.
Fun? I don’t think holding a screaming baby is too much fun, though I wouldn’t admit it.
Gee, thanks. He could at least have waited to dinner to tell me that.