All Primary Teachers Go To Heaven

OK, maybe not all of them, but all of the ones who end up teaching MY kids will certainly get a free ticket.

My daughter, this morning, was giddily happy about the fact that it was Sunday. First of all, she was excited to be able to pay her tithing on the money the tooth fairy left (for her first TWO teeth, lost on the same day) but more importantly, she was elated about the fact that she would be able to attend Primary.

That's when I should have been suspicious.

I asked her why she liked primary so much. I am not sure what kind of answer I was expecting. I guess that somewhere in the back of my head, I pictured this angelic girl, reverently listening while her teacher told stories of selfless children and integrous adults. Maybe I thought she'd break out into a childlike testimony of how wonderful this gospel is and how good it makes her feel to do the right things.

Nope.

"Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. It's Sunday, mom! I am so happy! I get to go to my class! I love going to my class! My teacher is so fun! Every week we hide from her, and then it's so funny when she comes in and she can't find us. I love it! I love it! I love it!"

And my bubble gets popped.

Seriously, if I have any say, that teacher will be exalted on the spot. Maybe even translated. Soon enough that she doesn't have to teach primary next week.