The Unfit Primary President

In my defense it had been a very long day.

Wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I am not what most would consider a “kid person”. One of the things I hated most when I was younger was getting a phone call and hearing on the other line, “Hi Vern, (uh oh – it’s not one of my friends) this is Mrs. Christianson/Smith/Johnson (No. No no no. Noooo!) and I was just wondering (Hurry up! You know what’s coming! Quick, think of something that you’re doing on Saturday!) if you could babysit this Saturday? (You should call my sister. She loves babysitting and kids adore her.) We already asked Suzi and she can’t do it so we wondered if YOU were available?” (Doh.) “Uh, sure Mrs. Christianson/Smith/Johnson.” (Man, I have GOT to get myself a boyfriend!)

Luckily, I have softened quite a bit since becoming a parent. So much so that for the last several months I have been helping a friend of mine watch a couple of her daycare kids twice a week. One of them has eyelashes the length of the Nile and I tell you what, when that 3-year-old boy looks up at me and says, “My Kristy? I LOVE you!” I would give him ice cream for lunch every day if he asked for it. Nevertheless, I’m not particularly skilled in the arena of young children. I mostly want them to play by themselves, get their own snacks, and take 4 hour naps. So, you can imagine how I took it when my church asked me a few years ago if I would be the President over all the children at church (we call it “Primary”) between the ages of 18 months – 11 years. While I can’t be certain about this, it’s probably a little like asking Joran Van Der Sloot if he will babysit your kittens. However, against my better judgment I agreed to take on the challenge and commenced my tenure as President over the Primary and things were going rather well. My favorite moment was when a young girl stepped up to the pulpit to say a prayer and she said, “And please bless us that we can have treats every time.”  I know how she feels.

Several months into that gig I decided to have some friends over for a dinner party. I wanted it to be nice. I wanted the food to be really good, and I wanted to try something new. So I got online, researched a few recipes and settled on one called Almond Apricot Stuffed Pork Tenderloin. Shazam! Now. The recipe called for two tablespoons of bourbon, and as a commitment to my faith I have agreed never to drink alcohol. I read the recipe carefully and determined that the alcohol would burn off before being ingested so I determined to move forward and headed to a big liquor store down the street to purchase my ingredient. Honest to goodness, this was my first time in a liquor store. It was like sending an Amish kid to Prom. I stood there with my eyes open wide, not sure where to even begin. I didn’t want to buy some huge thing of bourbon when I only needed 2 tablespooons! Then I noticed near the checkout area that they sold small shots of different liquors. A-ha! This was the ticket. I wasn’t sure if one shot would do it, so I bought two. I threw both of them in my purse and as it turned out, one was the exact amount I ended up needing so I sort of forgot about the 2nd one that still tossed around at the bottom of my purse.

Until I was at church.

In the Primary Room.

And while rummaging around for a pen I went, “Wait, what’s this?” and pulled out my 2nd little bottle of bourbon in front of the other women that I worked with. “Oh! Wait, I can explain….”

And that’s the story about the Primary President getting caught with alcohol at church.