Our branch conference had two strikes against it: the heat of the summer day and the inadequacies of our tiny rented building. But the list of “room” assignments distracted us from some of our discomfort:
“The stake president and branch president will meet in the stake president’s car.
“The elders will meet on the stand.
“The high priests will meet in the back.
“The Young Men will meet on the left side of the hall.
“The Young Women will meet on the right side of the hall.
“The Relief Society will meet in the nursery with the babies.
“The clerks will meet in the kitchen.
“The librarians will meet in the closet.
“The Primary will meet outside under a tree.
“The Sunday School will meet under a tree.
“… And anyone I forgot can find a tree too.”
Several years ago when my father was a branch president, he received a letter from Salt Lake City with the letters SWK marked on the flap. My mother spent the rest of the day wondering who would be sending him a letter “sealed with a kiss.” When dad arrived home he was met by a curious wife who was embarrassed to find that SWK was Spencer W. Kimball.
I was preparing a lesson, underlining many pertinent New Testament scriptures, while my three-year-old son watched intently. I left the room momentarily and upon returning found him furiously scribbling lines with a red pencil in the Old Testament. He looked up at me with Junior Sunday School enthusiasm and announced, “Look, Daddy! Here’s a page you forgot to color.”
American Fork, Utah
We tried several ways of teaching our two-year-old that it is better to give than to receive. We knew he thought he was a success when he proudly walked out to the car after Relief Society nursery and announced: “I gave Sister Nielson a headache today.”
Because we are in the military, our family has had to move several times in the past few years, literally from one end of the continent to the other. We recently moved to a large army post in Tennessee. We found our home on Friday and attended our first meetings in the area that Sunday. We were a little self-conscious at first as we repeatedly told inquiring members we lived on Tobacco Road.
But our embarrassment diminished when the branch president and his wife invited us to dinner that afternoon. As we followed them home, we were delighted to note the street sign as we made the last turn: Beers Street.
Elizabeth Daffer Smith
The effects of television and Primary were evident as we overheard our four-year-old son, who was playing with a walkie-talkie, say, “10-4, Roger, you’re under arrest! Come out with your arms folded!”
Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
While we were at a ward movie, my six-year-old son noticed they were selling gum at the snack bar. He asked, “Mom, can I buy some gum?”
“Yes, but wait till intermission.”
“But Mom, all I want is some gum. Why do I have to wait till my mission?”
Las Vegas, Nevada