Remember this lovely little story about working hard and sharing your bounty?
I remember loving this tale when I was a kid. I think we had the book at grandpa's so hearing it always meant we were on vacation there.
You can't go wrong with repetition and this book has lots.
"Not I" barked the lazy dog.
"Not I" purred the sleepy cat.
"Not I" quacked the noisy yellow duck.
I found myself right in the middle of this dialogue today.
Only I wasn't quick enough with my "Not I", so guess who got to be the hen? (like I don't already feel like one often enough)
At church this morning, mom, dad and I sat in the east wing. Something I was just commenting I hadn't done in a while. (something I won't do again for a long time) Fewer people sit in this smaller section. Plus we were there early so I suppose it was fate when we were approached by an usher and asked to do the collection.
With speed I've only witnessed when guacamole is on the table was my dad's "not I" followed immediately on my right with mom's equally surprisingly quick "not I" which left me alone and abandoned.
"Not it!" Is it too late to say "not it?!"
Well, it's church, I can't say no. Besides, how hard can it be?
"Just pass the basket and get a head count."
No problem. Wait, what? A head count? You want me to delicately dodge these innocent people's heads with the 5 foot basket-covered javelin and count everybody? Do you know who you are talking to? I manage to trip on nothing daily and I accidentally injure my loved ones on a regular basis and you want me to collect money from these nice (mostly frail elderly) folks?
Ok, but you're asking for it.
Well, I managed, but part way down one side, (at this point I'm keeping pretty good count) I noticed another person collecting on the other side. Wait, am I supposed to count just my people or everybody? 14, 15, 21, 19 ... wait, am I supposed to count only those giving or all the people in this section?
Wait, what number was I on again?
I meet The Main Section Usher and he looks at me seriously for my top-secret code.
I whisper "38".
He asks again, glancing over at my section skeptically.
"38?" I squeak. This is too much pressure. Isn't it time for the Our Father yet?
He nods solemnly and takes my collection.
In my head I hear "That'll do pig, that'll do." (name that movie)
Better not let me get up there and read or anything. You know I'll say something like "may the force be with you" instead of "thanks be to God" or something.