Camille is fearless. FEARLESS. She slides down the stairs on her stomach. She jumps off of anything that will stand still. She climbs on everything. She swings from lights. She is now taking gymnastics, which is heaven on earth to her.
However, the one thing that terrifies her to her core is being away from me. It doesn't happen too often, but when it does, look out. She will go ballistic. She doesn't like people talking to her, looking at her, and DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT touching her. The drama is quite impressive. Or aggravating.
As a matter of fact, we haven't made it through a church service in about 6 months. After we take Mary Emma and Tait to their classes, we start heading toward Camille's class. Then the crying starts. Then the wailing. Then the screaming and clawing. And as I pry her off of me to go to the torture chamber that is otherwise known as the church nursery, I am covered in sweat, tears, and snot. As I try to straighten my clothes that have almost been ripped off my body, I walk toward the Worship Center and try to calm down and prepare my mind for worship. Not an easy task when your child is living her worst nightmare down the hall.
So we sit down, take a few deep breaths, and the service begins.
About 15 minutes later, whammo. Our security number flashes on the screen. You know, that number that means "Nursery teachers have had enough. Please come get your child."
And I failed to mention one little talent that Camille possesses.
She passes out. Cold. Unconscious. Flat on her back. She cries so hard that she literally passes out.
Oh, what a fun game that is!
Actually, she doesn't do it on purpose - she just can't catch her breath when she cries really hard and passes out.
Apparently, the nursery workers will put up with anything, except for unconscious children. Which means we get to take her to the nursery for 15 minutes, thus torturing her unmercifully, and then go get her and spend the rest of the service sitting in the lobby.
At least there's a Starbucks in the church. Because at that point, caffeine is a necessity.
Or a margarita. Which isn't typically offered at the average church.
Apparently, they've never tried to put Camille in the nursery, or it would be.