This Primary isn't so political, and way more honest

They totally don't have to to give me chocolate bars or hard candy or other little thank you gifts for subbing in Primary. I have been paid handsomely in 6-year-old wit.

Here are few little gems from yesterday:

"My brother calls me unibrow, or sometimes unicorn for short". (Child has no sign of excess  or unruly facial hair).

"I have an uncommonly good memory, and can remember things from when I was 3 months old, and possibly from before birth."

"I know quite a lot because I'm the (Priesthood leadership calling removed to preserve anonymity)'s son. Did you know that? You know I'll probably be a (same Priesthood leadership calling his Father now holds) someday because that's how it works." (I didn't set him straight. Thought his Father might want to do it).

"Once I got lost while my brother was at karate. He doesn't go anymore, though, because (here he lowers his voice to almost a whisper and smiles while nodding, giving me the distinct impression he is parroting his parent), it was just too much for him. You know, all the kicking and jabbing and stuff."

Yet another class member kept stealing my visual aids off the table behind me, and then holding them aloft while talking over me so she could hijack the lesson. (This same child, who is my own, also got spotlighted yesterday. She put 'rock star' under future plans. Not exactly a Sunday School answer, but her admission that her favorite thing to do is watch Rachael Ray with her Mom got a few giggles from the other teachers.)

These bring to mind my very favorite Primary moments from the past.

A closing prayer by an articulate Sunbeam who prayed that "Rebecca would be able to get out from under the table and be reverent," that "Ross would stop bugging everyone during sharing time", and that her "Mom's secret baby that no one knows about yet will be safe and happy in her tummy."

While I was teaching the 4-year-olds, I found that if I gave them a couple of minutes to share events from the week, before we started our lesson, things would go more smoothly. They especially liked to share whatever was under their band-aids, which was mostly nothing. (In a similar moment last year, Jane told her teacher she had been attacked by a shark). So when one little boy came in with a cast on his arm, I thought I'd better give him a chance to tell us his story and invited him up front. I said, " wow, that sure is a big owie! What happened there?" He looked at the floor, then at me, before blurting: 

"My Mom ran me over with a truck!" 

(She actually had. The Mom was still very shaken up, and began to cry when I asked about it.)

Okay, now it is Sharing Time. What are your favorite Primary moments? (I'm not talking about when Hillary cried or when all the Republicans played nice in the Florida debate.)