One Point for the Feminists

I am definitely not a feminist. I often roll my eyes at those females who INSIST that they can do anything a guy can do. I have no problem letting guys be the strong ones and carry all the heavy things and do the hard manual labor. In fact, I am always impressed when a guy notices me struggling with something and offers to help or, even better, to carry it for me. What can I say? I was raised by a Daddy who is always a gentleman and who trained my awesome older brother to be a gentleman as well! So, I love it when I meet other gentlemen who open doors and carry heavy things for me!

All that aside, I have recently found that there is one place where my femininity falls by the wayside and I find myself trying to out-do the guys around me: the weight room. For some reason, everything in me wants to be able to see a guy lifting weights and say (to a nearby female, I would never rob a man of his masculinity by saying this to his face) "I can lift more than that!" Weight lifting in its essence is a rather masculine thing to do, so I guess that explains this strange, yet persistent, urge to beat a guy at his own game.

Fortunately for the males in the weight room (and to the relief of my feminine side), I have been unable to attain this goal. Occasionally, I will see a guy lifting less than I do, but before the boasting words of triumph can leave my mouth I realize that he's doing twice as many repetitions, or, as happened one time, he is only using one leg where I use both. The beast within continues to wait in anticipation, but my hopes are not quite as high as they once were.

HOWEVER, today I had an experience that temporarily satisfied the monster. I had just laid down on a bench to do sit-ups when I heard a guy say, "Woah, is that a bruise?" Noticing him staring at my knee, I figured he was talking to me and responded in the affirmative.

"How did that happen?" he asked.

"Oh, a girl fell on me at practice."

"Wow, I've never had a bruise like that!"

With those few words that guy made my day! Yes!!!!!! I had out-done a guy in the weight room! Granted, it had nothing to do with lifting weights, but that didn't matter to my exaltant little mind! I had won!

I don't know what I said after that, but I know that while I remained calm and indifferent on the outside, the beast was dancing for joy. Oh, the bliss of victory!

Tears, Toys, and Rope Trains

Today I helped out in the Nursey at church for the second time. I am still amazed that one room can contain so many one-year-olds. I counted today: there were 26 toddlers and nine helpers. On one hand, today went very well. The little boy last week who cried for a good 10 minutes before I finally got him interested in the slide, only cried for about 30 seconds this week and played happily the rest of the morning. That is, until he fell off a toy and bumped his head...right before his mom walked in to get him. *sigh* I tried to convince her that he had a great time, but I'm not too sure she believed me.

On the other hand, today's service was long and the kids knew it! I have never had so many toddlers ask me to pick them up before. For the most part, they were good and played nicely, but as soon as one set of parents showed up to collect their child they ALL wanted to leave! Other than a few who were still playing (the ones that I cleverly used as excuses to avoid the screaming masses), the entire class was crying and begging to be let out. As soon as one was distracted, another would start crying!

My favorite moment of the morning was when some of the leaders took six of the little ones for a "walk." They had a rope chain and had the kids hold onto it, then led them out into the hallway. I don't know what they expected to happen, but about ten minutes later all of them were in the class again and I overheard the one leader saying, "As soon as we got out the door they all let go of the rope and scattered in every direction!" My thoughts exactly. Oh well, live and learn! With toddlers, Sunday is always an adventure!

Candyland

Most people consider the game Candyland as a simple game for children. However, it is well known amongst Candyland experts that the game was originally a contact sport. The game first came to being in 1806 by a tribe of indigenous people in the rainforests of southern Brazil. The children of the tribe would make dyes out of different color leaves and each child would choose a different color with which to dye themselves. Then the group would pick one person to be the "caller." The Caller was usually a child not participating in the game who was totally oblivious to the actions of their peers. After painting themselves, the children would then sneak up on the Caller and tackle him or her all at once.

The Caller (who usually knew the rules of the game from previous experience) would have to chase the other children based on which color(s) of paint rubbed off on his or her skin during the tackling. The fleeing children had to find something matching the paint color on their skin to be "safe." That object would be considered "base." If the Caller managed to overpower and tackle one of the children before that child reached his or her base, that child would be "out" and the Caller could chase after another child (if they hadn't already reached their bases). Once all the children were safe, they would all wash off the dye and put on a new color.

The ultimate goal was to wear all the colors before anyone else. This could be difficult because the Caller can only chase those children whose dye came off on his or her skin. Thus, it was important to make a good tackle. If a child's dye did not come off on the Caller, that child could not change dyes and had to do the same color over again. Another rule that made the game more challenging was that if the Caller could pin one of his or her tacklers to the ground before the child could run, that child was automatically "out." Therefore, those children proficient in hard, quick tackling usually won the game. Extra colors were also awarded to those children with the most bruises at the end of each round. Those with life-threatening flesh wounds won automatically.

But as usual, the game eventually made its way north to America, where some over-zealous safety-conscious school board declared the game "unsafe for children." Instead they used the idea of colorful children running through an exciting forest to get all the colors to form a board game. This worked until halfway through the first game when one participant realized how easy it was to cheat. However, the school board decided dishonesty was all right as long as their children were free from physical ailments.

In the meantime, the members of the school board adapted the game into something they called "football" for adults, but they all eventaully taught it to their kids anyway. And that's how the revolution known as American Football began.