Well, I didn’t get to see much of General Conference this weekend. The culprit is, of course, my two-and-a-half-year-old Tazmanian Devil of a son, Joshua B. Joshua is a the sweetest boy I’ve ever seen (well, in reality, he’s tied with his five-month-old brother Ian), but he does not believe in quietly watching old men (and the occasional woman) droning away on BYU-TV.
This weekend he was a dinosaur and a lion. I would be watching a talk and he would attack head down, roaring like the T-Rex in “Toy Story” or Simba in “The Lion King.” Eventually, I gave up and took him to the park, where he tuckered himself out enough to come home and take a nap. But by then Conference was over.
There was a nice interlude during the Sunday afternoon session, however. Joshua had just eaten lunch and I asked him if he wanted to watch the pretty singing. So, he sat in his pint-sized blue armchair and put his little arms in his laps. I turned on the afternoon session and the Choir began singing “Beautiful Zion.” He was fascinated. He watched with the rapt attention he usually only uses for a Disney movie or “Elmo.” He even put his little fists over his eyes during the prayer.
But then the prayer was over, and another droning talk was about to start. The dinosaur was released from its slumber. It attacked a large fire truck, which protested loudly, “fire rescue team on the scene, fire rescue team on the scene!” Mommy and Daddy gave up again and went to the park, where the dinosaur laughed itself silly on the swings and the slides.
There is something true about music soothing the savage beast. Or perhaps Joshua was remembering choirs he had heard before he came to the Earth. In any case, I appreciated that brief, five-minute interlude. Maybe by next year, the interlude will be 15 minutes. Nah, by then we’ll have a 17-month-old to worry about as well.
I’ll probably go to hell for this, but honestly, I find the thought of playing with my eighteen-month-old at the park much more spiritual than General Conference. They’re only young once, and a week doesn’t go by that I don’t wish I’d spent more Sunday afternoons with his older sister a few years ago.
This year we ate brunch at my parents on Sunday then gathered around the tv. This meant there were a bunch of adults to handle the children, so I got a little more than usual out of it.
My four-year-old son quitely entertained himself with Blues Clues videos while my wife and I watched conference. My 13-month-old daughter required most of the attention, but let me watch a lot more of conference than I expected to watch.
Man do I know where you’re coming from. Thankfully, we have the Ensign to look forward to.
Jjohnsen, I know you didn’t mean you literally think you are going to hell because of your desire to play with your children. Still, I think all of us work to balance our time with our children and our Church duties. I feel comfortable with the balance I’m achieving at this point in my life, and sometimes that means I choose my wife and children over some Church meetings. That’s OK.
A few old cardboard boxes and several rolls of tape and crayons unexpectedly brought us 2 hours of peace from the 2, 6, and 9 yos. We’ll have to remember that for next time.