R.I.P. Chip or Dale

Today was pretty uneventful. I did manage to stay on the phone with BellSouth for an hour and a half because they "accidentally" disconnected our fax line. That was time well spent. It could not have gone any better if I had let Aidan talk to the 5 or 6 different customer service representatives. At least I figured out how to get a real person on the line and not just talk to a computer. Which, by the way, is by pressing zero anytime during the call. That was not one of the options the well spoken computer lady voice told me about. But, needless to say, our fax line was re-connected by mid-afternoon. Great way to start off the day. Tonight at church was the "Super Wednesday" kickoff for the new Wednesday night children's activities for the school year. We had dinner in the fellowship hall followed by the younger children going to the sanctuary for singing and a puppet show and finally an ice cream social on the front lawn. I am a Wednesday night Mission Friends teacher (yes, I teach Aidan's class and yes, I do know that he can do things without me breathing down his neck every second of the day but he doesn't mind me being there so I am milking the opportunity every chance I get because one day he will not want me within a 100 foot radius)( To my friend Mandy-no comments to me about that!) OK, back to what I was saying. So I was at church and we had about 30 minutes between finishing dinner and time to go to the sanctuary. Sitting at a table for 30 minutes with a 4 year old and 5 other young children who have all finished eating is not an option so we went outside to play. Things were going good. Aidan plus about 20 other children are in a contained area, running around and playing; parents are standing around talking, trying to keep an eye on their child when I see it. Two kids, side by side looking at something on the ground. I think to myself, "probably a stick or they are just checking out each other's shoes, nothing serious." Then more kids come over and stare at the same spot on the ground. And then a few more join in. Finally, some kid starts yelling, "Hey! Come look at this! It's a dead chipmunk!" Now, my child is not interested in the dead chipmunk because he and a friend are rolling around on the ground wrestling, but they are rolling pretty close to the dead chipmunk. I do what any mother would do, yell at my child to move. Aidan doesn't hear me, of course. I realized that by the time I found someone to remove the dead chipmunk it was quite possible that the dead chipmunk would have became part of some sick game. There were too many older boys standing around for one of them not to be able to restrain himself from picking it up and throwing it at one of the girls. It only takes one, and there is ALWAYS at least one in a pack of boys. Trust me, I know. I taught 8th grade. Anyway, I grabbed a trashcan and scooped up the stiff as a board chipmunk much to the disgust of about a dozen kids and a few squimish parents. I guess I can add "Dead Chipmunk Remover" to my long resume now. I can stick that in with "Dead Bird Disposer" which is another story. Rest in peace little chipmunk.