Things Kids Say Thursday: The Ten Commandments

Around the start of summer vacation, Little Man and Baby Girl went to VBS at a church we used to regularly attend. When I’d pick up LM each day, he’d tell me what they did, and the lesson for one of the days went over The Ten Commandments. Spying an opportunity for something cute to include in my Things Kids Say posts, I grabbed a pen and piece of paper to write down what he said.

But then I lost the paper and y’all had to read about other cute things he/Baby Girl did or said.

And then I found it today, which is great timing.

So, The Ten Commandments, according to Little Man:

  1. No stealing. [Good…]
  2. Don’t remarry. [Sounds like all of your grandparents are screwed.]
  3. No killing people. [Also good…]
  4. Obey your parents. [Heck yeah.]
  5. Sing a song about God every day. [If that’s what floats your boat, sure.]
  6. No kicking people out of the country. [For the sake of not going political here, no comment.]
  7. No choking people. Or wrestling. [Well, half of that you definitely shouldn’t do.]
  8. Let as many babies (what he calls stuffed animals) sleep in your bed as you want. [Suggesting that I’m defying God’s law by not letting you keep 252 stuffed animals in your bed won’t cut it.]
  9. Admit that science makes you smarter. [Since I’m not going political, I’ll skip the obvious joke that could be made here.]
  10. Treat people nicely by throwing them parties. [That’s not very subtle, LM.]

Don’t Start Your Preacher Stuff

After piddling around with a few blog topics and coming up short, I asked my husband Sam for some input.

“Gimme a topic. For the blog. To write about,” I said while we watched The Walking Dead.

“How about how much you hate preachers?” he suggested.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t hate preachers.”

“Yeah, but you know how you are around them. Antique furniture and midgets.”

No, we don’t sit around using terms that are offensive to people in our spare time. Not usually, anyway, although the presidential primaries have certainly prompted a few colorful words directed towards supporters of certain candidates, particularly in my state of SC and at certain women who think you should only vote for those with va-jay-jays.

Back on topic, now. That phrase comes from the movie Sling Blade. Have you seen it yet? If not, you should. It’s super good. (A movie critic, I’m not.) On the first viewing, it’ll probably break your heart, and then on subsequent viewings, you’ll probably pick up on all of the dark humor and you’ll piss your pants laughing. (Or maybe not because you aren’t a terrible person like Sam and I.)


There is a scene in the movie where the asshole boyfriend Doyle Hargraves (played by Dwight Yoakam) complains about his girlfriend allowing the intellectually disabled Karl Childers (played by Billy Bob Thorton) to stay in her home. After protesting his girlfriend’s decision, Doyle explains that he can’t be around Karl. He says that with people like Karl, he’d be “Just like I am with antique furniture and midgets. You know that, I can’t so much as drink a damn glass of water around a midget or a piece of antique furniture.”

That’s how I am around preachers.

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I am anxious as hell around preachers, and I typically go out of my way to avoid them. Not so easy when there is one church per 100 people in your county. (Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I pass about a dozen churches on the way to get Little Man from school, so there are a lot.) With some of the fire and brimstone preachers around here damning people to hell for their musical tastes, dressing up for Halloween, or going to the movies, I get nervous and clam up around them. Now I’ll say that I know all pastors and church people aren’t all condemning and shit, and even the pastor at our former church was a great down to earth person (who I still couldn’t get comfortable around), but still, anxiety. It doesn’t always have a rhyme or reason.

To give an example of my preacher phobia, at Little Man’s former school, we lived so close that we were able to walk to pick him up. A few other parents were also “walkers” (the school’s label, which I thought was hilarious as a TWD fan), so on the days where my anxiety didn’t have me walking to the opposite end of the pick up area to avoid people, I’d make a little small talk.

One couple seemed particularly nice, intelligent, and very funny, and I eventually took a liking to them. “I wonder what they do that they’re both available to pick up their kids in the afternoons?” I commented to Sam one day.

“Oh, they’re both preachers,” Sam said.

I laughed and rolled my eyes at him. “Whatever.”

Sam laughed too. “Well, both of them are preachers.”

“No they aren’t. They seem cool.”

“Preachers can be cool,” Sam replied.

“You’re full of shit. They aren’t preachers. I think I’d know.”

Sam laughed again. “Is this like gaydar, only you’re able to pick up on people who are preachers? Seriously, they are preachers. We met the wife at Trunk-Or-Treat last year and she introduced herself as the pastor. How do you not remember that? And the husband gave a sermon at a thing I went to when I was in the choir. They are both preachers. Now you’re going to be weird around them, aren’t you?”

I was silent. Two pastors in one family? Sweet baby Jesus.

Sam made a point to tag along when I walked to pick up Little Man the next day because he wanted to see if I would act uncomfortable. I was, so I did. Soon thereafter, Sam started picking up Little Man by himself most days. I blamed pregnancy, which is a good excuse to get out of almost anything. (As is having a baby.)

So, there you have it, a post about my hatred for preachers anxiety around preachers. Now, no one disclose that you’re a pastor or I’ll act weird around you via blogging. 😉 I’m kidding, of course.

If anyone is wondering about the title, my husband heard a man tell a preacher that once. The preacher wasn’t, in fact, starting any preacher stuff, but the man, who likely had his own hang-ups, preempted that.

It’s Fine Time

If you’ve ever had an account on Facebook or MySpace, then you probably remember that “What’s Your Fine?” game. For those of you who never wasted much time on those sites (or aren’t friends with people who share silly crap), it’s where you’re given a list of “crimes” and the fines that goes along with them. You add up your crimes and post the fine total.

I don’t think I ever shared one of those, mainly because most of my friends list consists of family members and church people, plus a couple of preachers. Plus you’d risk facing the wrath of my husband’s sweet great aunt. One time I posted a recipe for a yummy cocktail and she told me that I should be ashamed of myself and implied that I was going to hell. She didn’t seem so sweet after that. I later found out that she spent much of her free time shaming various family members via social media, so it wasn’t just me at least. I can’t speak for the others, but my husband and I were relieved when the option to hide statuses from people came along.

Anyway, here’s the Fine Game, since I know you’re dying for me to cut to the chase so you can find out just how bad you are.

You don’t have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.

NOTE fines to be added once, not for how ever many times you have done it.

Smoked weed — $10

Did acid or pills — $5

Ever had sex at church — $25

Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you — $40

Had sex with someone on MySpace/Facebook/Bebo etc — $25

Had sex for money — $100

Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican — $20

Vandalized something — $20

Had sex on your parents’ bed — $10

Beat up someone — $20

Been jumped — $10

Cross dressed — $10

Given money to stripper — $25

Been in love with a stripper — $20

Kissed someone who’s name you didn’t know — $0.10

Hit on some one of the same sex while at work — $15

Ever drive and drank — $20

Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk — $50

Used toys while having sex — $30

Got drunk, passed out and don’t remember the night before — $20

Went skinny dipping — $5

Had sex in a pool — $20

Kissed someone of the same sex — $10

Had sex with someone of the same sex — $20

Cheated on your significant other — $10

Masturbated — $10

Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend — $20

Done oral — $5

Got oral — $5

Done / got oral in a vehicle while it was moving — $25

Stole something — $10

Had sex with someone in jail — $25

Made a nasty home video or took pictures — $15

Had a threesome — $50

Had sex in public — $20

Been in the same room while someone was having sex — $25

Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars — $20

Had sex with someone 10 years older — $20

Had sex with someone under the age accepted by rule of thumb (half your age plus 7) — $25

Been in love with two people or more at the same time– $50

Said you love someone but didn’t mean it — $25

Went streaking — $5

Went streaking in broad daylight — $15

Been arrested — $5

Spent time in jail — $15

Pissed in the pool — $0.50

Played spin the bottle — $5

Done something you regret — $20

Had sex with your best friend — $20

Had sex with someone you work with at work — $25

Had anal sex — $80

Lied to your mate — $5

Lied to your mate about the sex being good — $25

I’m kinda curious. When it says “be jumped” does that mean that a bunch of people rolled up and beat you down or does it mean your significant other rolled up on you and sexed you up? And $20 for “done something you regret”? Seriously? I probably do something regrettable every day.

And, since I’m just on my blog and there are no family members, church folk, or preachers present, I’ll cop to my fine: $225.

Fun, right? And by “fun,” I mean absolute time waster. And pretty silly. So, not so fun. My guilty pleasure remains doing pointless quizzes that reveal my soul, hobbies, and food preferences.

Don’t run off just yet, though. There is another Fine Game going around on Facebook. I saw it yesterday when a few of my friends posted their fine amounts. Only this one isn’t naughty.

Check the Church Fine Game:


Funny how things change after nearly a decade, huh? People go from vaguely confessing their naughty shit to vaguely confessing their church histories.

In case you’re wondering, my fine was $30. My husband’s was $190. One day I hope to cast out a demon, but I’m pretty sure something from the first list will be going on for that to happen.

Wanna share your fines? No? Pooh on you.