The Nanny Tries to Teach Sunday School

I teach the third grade Sunday School class at my church.  I love it.  It has been the highlight of my year; the only thing I look forward to doing before I do it.

That being said, my class, in keeping with the rest of my life, is the exact opposite of neat and tidy.  We are LOUD. We are always moving.  We have a hard time not breaking into Justin Bieber song or the latest knock-knock joke in the middle of someone else talking.  We also have a hard time tracking with the on-topic subject.

This week, the preferred (and unplanned) topic of conversation was underwear.  Specifically, "What kind of underwear does your dad wear?" And even more specifically, "Does your dad ever wear his underwear at the breakfast table?"

Hoping the conversation would end on its own, I said nothing until it became apparent that instead of fizzling out, we could be discussing this rabbit trail for the next hour.  At this point, gathering up all of my nanny character, the following sentences came out of my mouth:

"Guys, we are going to be done talking about underwear now.  Underwear is something you talk about with your family, in your house.  You're not with your family and you're not in your house.  So we are going to go back to the lesson now."

I swear I'm never having kids.

Also, if you ever want dirt on a Pastor, send his kid to my class.