"Girls are so delightfully quiet and well-behaved," she sighed.
Then where did my girls come from??
My mom likes to say, "Those girls have ants in their pants." And I can't think of a better way to say it. My daughters fidget, climb and squirm. All the time.
Grace likes to run the length of the bench during sacrament meeting begging to go to nursery. If we manage to snag her onto a seat or in our laps, she pushes against the bench in front of us. Or stands on my lap, grabbing my neck. Or hangs off the bench, blood rushing to her head.
I envy mothers whose children sit on the cushioned bench for an hour each week, drawing, or reading, or--is it even possible?--listening.
You should have seen us a month ago--on the fourth row in the chapel on the Sunday that Elder Nelson came to our stake. I don't remember anything he said. I spent part of the meeting trying to keep my children still and quiet, and the other part leaving in shame-faced, cowering embarrassment.
Might have been the worst Sunday of my life.
And, I apparently, am alone here. Since all other girls are "delightfully quiet."
Would one of you mind explaining to me what I am doing wrong?