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Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Little Michael Evans

I realize as I type this that I need to get back to posting about our two kids and parenting. May need to give more updated background about them so that you will understand why they are still so amusing after all these years- especially if you are a new reader. They are both so comically, polar opposites, and wonderfully created!

I really thought we would have had our own sitcom by now but that would be impossible without consistent posts. And believe me they are still funny. So are "Dude" and I.

So our youngest is 13 now. He is still afraid of people in costumes and not ashamed of it. He is intrinsically motivated, loves God, does exceptionally well academically and socially, is the best dancer in the house and many affectionately call him "Little Michael Evans" from the show Good Times.

A few Sundays ago, we were sitting in church waiting for Praise and Worship to start and one of the leaders of our church made his rounds to say hello.

"Hey Buddy! What's going on?" he cheerily asked as he athletically-like, patted our son's chest. He then moved on and said hello to the rest of the family. I noticed the look on Myles's face but before I could say anything the music started.

I found out why he had the odd look once we got in the car after service.

"I don't like when he pats my chest," he told us. "It's weird."

Dude  Daddy addressed it. "He probably does that to all the boys. Not a big deal."

Oh Lord, I thought. I was waiting to see what Little Michael Evans was thinking.

The look on his face. Now I guess it's important to mention and necessary for some to get this story. The man is White.

"Back in the day, men patted little boys on their heads," Daddy told him.

Myles said something as he looked out of his window. It was inaudible. I was glad.

"What is it?" Daddy asked him as we turned slowly out of the parking lot.

"I'm not a-" he began.

"Your're not a what?" his sister asked him. She was sitting in the back next to him.

As I began to give my spill on it he finally said it:

"I'm not a monkey!"

There was a moment of silence. Then I couldn't contain my natural reaction. I squealed with laughter. I couldn't stop.
Then Dude Daddy and our daughter joined in. Myles didn't find it amusing.

"Where did you get that from?" I managed to say while wiping my eyes.

Weeks before that incident in church, we had a visiting minister (White too) who was over many of the Assemblies of God around the United States. He mentioned this when he spoke.

"I've been the over seer of the Assemblies for more than ten years now..."

Myles nudged me.

A few minutes later the speaker said something about people sitting around singing "Kum ba yahs".

Oh Lord, I thought as I closed my eyes and waited for our son to respond.

"Momma! Overseer? Kum ba yahs?" he whispered and shook his head.

I did too. At him.

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