Who Cut the Cheese?

Are we crazy?

Why of course not.  Why do you ask?

Sunday night we attended an Awana awards banquet.  Awana is a children’s program run through a church.  All throughout the year, the kids memorize Bible verses, play games, and do all sorts of silly super-fun things, but it’s not just fun and games.  The kids are on teams and they earn individual and team points for everything from wearing their uniform t-shirt to winning a game of dodge ball.  Although for some of the kids it’s quite competitive, I have a sneaking suspicion my son attends just for the dodge ball games.

When we walked into the gymnasium Sunday night, long tables were covered into bright green cloths with tissue paper pop-poms making everything look bright and cheery and quiet fain-cy.  Toys and games were piled high in the front of the gym.  A large screen was set up and photos of children, leaders, and parents from throughout the year flashed for our enjoyment.  The kids excitement could be felt.

So we found a few seats at a table filled with children and made ourselves comfortable.  Bowls of nuts and m&m’s were scattered around the table, an appetizer of sorts.  I took a handful nuts, just so I could get a few of those m&m’s in the mix.  FringeMan spied a little dish across the table and said, “Oh, I’m gonna grab a slice of cheese.”

He took the neat little white square and popped it in his mouth faster than I could say, “That’s butter!”

Too late.

He looked over to me, eyes wide with surprise, and said, “That’s not cheese.”

All the kids laughed and laughed.

I said, “You know that’s making the blog cut this week.”

The moral of the story:  If in doubt about the little white squares, ask a kid to try it first.

Once we moved past appetizers, the food was lovely.  A brownie sundae rounded out the meal.  While we were eating our ice-cream, one of the girls at our table looked at FringeMan and asked, “What land are you from?”

“What land am I from?”  FringeMan questioned in confusion.

“He’s out of this world, honey.”  I answered for him.

Really, we cannot blame her for wondering where FringeMan came from.  After all, he eats pats of butter.

By the end of the night, FringeKid won a fluffy white bunny and FringeBoy came home with an automatic pitch machine, the kind you use for baseball practice.

He went up to fetch his award, and when he sat back down, he held up his pitching machine and said, “Awesome!  Look at my new cannon.”

And sure enough, FringeMan took quite a few shots from the “cannon” when we came home.

But the question still begs to be answered.  Who cut the cheese anyway?

Now tell me your family has crazy tendencies too.  Is it just us?  Anyone else ever mistake a slice of butter for cheese?

BTW If you invite us over for dinner, just leave the butter in stick form.  I promise none of us will pick it up and start chomping away.