The Kids Who Cry Wolf... Loudly

I was busy collecting, sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting away the immense mounds of laundry my family goes through on a daily basis, when I heard a familiar sound.

HELP! HELP!

Now, many of you might think it mean of me, but I do not always run to find the source of that scream, because most of the time, it turns out to be a false alarm.

I have been trying to explain to my children (for as long as I can remember) the danger of crying for help when they are just playing around. I have told them the story of the Little Boy Who Cried Wolf. Several times. To no avail.

The kids are very animated and imaginative children (they kinda had no choice, having Jay for a dad). They would rather play pretend on any given day than play any video game in the world. They even put on shows for us on a regular basis... costumes, props and everything (It's more entertaining than TV most of the time!). And they take their acting roles very seriously.

One example is a fun activity we seem to have adopted into our nightly routines. We will read the Scriptures together (in which the kids usually take on the roles of the characters in the Bible story we are reading), then we will pray, sing a song (to or about) the Lord, and then we will play "Jonah". I am not really sure how this particular game got started, but it has become a favorite, and something they all (even little H) insist on doing before going to bed.

The children will pretend that they are Jonah, running away from the Lord. They hop aboard the ship bound for Tarshish (they will often even purchase a pretend ticket). We (as the shipmates) will ask them all sorts of questions about themselves (as the character Jonah), and they answer them the best they can (what's your name, where are you going, why are you here, etc). Then, the whole ship begins to rock, and we all pretend to be in the ship being tossed by the waves.

The kids will say (in turn, and very dramatically), that they are to blame and that they are running away from God and the only way to save their lives is to throw them into the sea. Jay and I will then grab them by the hands and feet, carry them to their rooms, swing them a few times and throw them into their beds, where the giant fish (Jay) awaits to gobble them up (or at least nibble on their bellies). The kids just love it and even little H will run around the house saying, "Jonah, Jonah, peez!"

But I digress...

All that to say that the children tend to get extremely excited about their various roles, so that at times they are much louder than they should be. So loud, in fact, that one day, while we were moving into this house, we received a knock on the door from a police officer. Yes, sadly, it's true. I had never been so embarrassed in all my life! Apparently, our new neighbor lady next door (an old, cranky woman we have discovered), hadn't had the opportunity to get to know my children (or any children for that matter) and, upon hearing all the noise, thought we were beating them or some such nonsense, and called the police on us. Mortifying.

So, no, when I heard this most recent cry for help, I did not jump to the aide of the crier. I waited to see if it was serious, or if they were just play acting again.

Then I heard R say, "Mommy! I really do need help this time. For real. I'm stuck in a bucket and I can't get out."

Perhaps you would not approve of my reaction to this news, but I immediately started laughing and ran to get my camera. This is what I saw....



To be completely honest, I was more concerned with the overflowing trash can in her room, than getting her out of the bucket! Ha ha.

And, would you believe it, but now that the kids know that all they have to do is tip themselves over to get out of it, they will take turns getting "stuck" in the bucket (which is actually R's laundry basket), and see how fast they can get themselves to tip over. They call it "Aunt Fannie" (from the movie Robots).

Whatever. At least they are entertaining themselves! Ha ha.