Every good VBS needs a fire drill

Well another Vacation Bible School has come and gone. It was PandaMania at HUM last week and it was a blast!
I was in charge of "Treetop Treats" (just a fancy name for the snack room) and had an amazing crew. We worked like a well oiled machine, like we'd done it for years. Amazingly, I didn't know half of their names when the week began.
I could not have done this week without my mom and Jimmy. Jimmy kept Keatyn 2 days and then my mom came and kept her there while I worked. I haven't put her in the nursery yet (I'm a wienie, I know) but she loved having her own personal nanny and I think mom was happy to oblige. Of course, she now thinks at every nap time, she is supposed to be cocooned in Nana's arms and rocked quietly as only a grandmother can. Poor kid, this week it's been back to the real world of catnaps in the car seat and crib naps with her maniac brother running like a banchee through the house.

One day, we (along with 20 five and six year olds) iced (using BLUE icing) 200 cupcakes in 20 minutes. Can I get an AMEN that the carpet didn't have to be replaced in the fellowship hall?

Transformed into a bamboo forest...
I love my job as the snack lady. I truly enjoy the two 20 minute spurts I get to interact with all the VBS kids and then send them on their way to make crafts, sing songs, and be chased by other willing adults.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE children, taught them for many years, even had 2 of my own... but I also love the solitude and tranquility of the kitchen. We prepared the snacks along with several groups of kiddos, then I give the bible point and story for the day, they eat, they leave, and then we clean and prepare for the next day. It's the perfect VBS job!

A resounding rendition of "We've got spirit, yes we do, we've got spirit, how 'bout you?" during snack time...
My cousin Abram saying the prayer... love that boy!
Trace got the camera when we got home... After wearing that shirt for 5 days straight, I was ready to burn it.
Sooo... into every VBS a little drama must fall. I've told this story so many times this week, but had to write it down for "documentation" sake. We'll call it,

The day Trace evacuated the entire church...

Wednesday morning I got to my post about 8:30 and Trace had a ball running through the fellowship hall and pilfering through the mega sized church kitchen (which he's never been allowed to do before.) He loved the huge counter can opener and industrial dishwasher and by 8:37 he had pushed, pulled, opened and closed every button, drawer, and device in the place.

He was like Emeril on crack.

By then, the kitchen crew was beginning to show up and the day was beginning. Kids were filing into the gym and the band was kicking up with praise music. Parents were dropping kids off in the vestibule and cars were backlogged in the parking lot.

Around 8:50, Trace walks out of the boys bathroom, stops no less than 3 feet from me, and still very much caught up in all the kitchen frenzy, pulls this fire alarm...

(I took this picture that night at Open House. I just told him to go stand in front of the Panda poster and smile. He didn't really put the two together. Believe me, we were in NO way laughing about this ... in front of him.)

In his defense, I had never explained what those were or had ever told him not to touch it. But when the schreeeeeching alarm started sounding and the light above it starting flickering, he caught on rather quickly.

He immediately starting crying and I grabbed his hand and took off running toward the "crowd" to tell them it was a false alarm. I somehow felt that if they heard it from "the kitchen lady" then it would be legit and the chaos that was ensuing would stop.

It didn't work.

By the time I got to the front of the church, all of the green shirts were in full emergency mode, escorting parents and children back out into the parking lot and evacuating the gym full of about 100 VBSers all dancing happily (and most, obliviously) to the band.

People kept stopping me as I drug Trace by the arm (who is still squalling) to try and console him that it's just loud but everything is OK and not to be scared. (They had no idea, he was not scared of the "fire" but of what his mother was going to do to him when I got him alone in the bathroom.)

I found the director and told her what had happened and she immediately burst into hysterics. Of course, she knew better than to let Trace see her laugh.

I turned just in time to see the fire department filing through the doors of the gym. Oh, the humiliation.

When I finally got Trace to the bathroom and sat him up on the counter, I was huffing and puffing and completely breathless. His first words to me were... "Are you gonna spank me Mama?"

Well...

I explained that he had learned a B.I.G. lesson and now that he knows what that little red box is and what it's used for, he is to never, NEVER touch it again unless there is indeed a fire. He looked at me and said through tear stained eyes...

"It's OK Mama, it was an accident, I forgive you."

Clearly we need to have a discussion about forgiveness and who is supposed to forgive whom and such, but during an active fire drill, I felt it best to wait.

By this point, everyone had been brought back into the gym, the band had resumed, and the fire trucks were dismissed. Trace was so distraught that he wouldn't stay with his group to sing so he headed back to the kitchen with me. Of course, everyone in there knows the "real" culprit behind the fire drill and was snickering and giving the old, "glad that wasn't my kid" look.

About an hour later, it dawns on me that fire departments sometimes charge places for false alarms, so I put my big girl panties on and headed where else? The preacher's office.

It was time for confession.

Randy and our associate pastor were both in there so I felt adequately forgiven when I confessed that yes it was my son that pulled the fire alarm and to let me know the cost. Randy's words were (after he stopped laughing) "We'll be sure to double it and send the bill to Jimmy Cofer!"

That night at Open House, he offered Jimmy and I free counseling on our little "convict." Of course, once I told him that my brother had done the same thing at that age at Ryan's Steak House and that Jimmy had knocked the fire extinguisher off the wall, filling his entire Kindergarten hall full with white foam, he understood it was apparently in the genes and Trace didn't stand a chance.

Each morning on our way to VBS, we went over the Bible points for the week.

God made you... God listens to you... God watches over you... God loves you, no matter what...God gives good gifts... AND... (let's all say it together) ... Never pull the fire alarm.

Lesson learned.

(But I'm still waiting on the bill.)