Kellen has a good friend staying a week with us while his parents are on vacation.  Late this afternoon, the two of them walked down the street to another classmate’s house to see if he’d like to come back over to our house and hang out.  (I’d say “play”, which is what they would have actually been doing, but it sounds so much cooler and pre-teen-y to say “hang out”.)

A few minutes later my phone rang, and it was Kellen, asking if he and his friend could stay over there instead. 

“Are you sure it’s ok with his mom?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re having Small Group,” Kellen replied.

Small group, if you’ve never heard the phrase, are exactly what they sound like …. when small groups meet outside of church on a regular basis to discuss the sermon, share needs, pray, fellowship, and enjoy a snack.  In the case of our own small group, “snack” is probably top on the priority list, which is one of the reasons Blaine and I like our group so much. 

I knew my neighbor Valerie’s small group was a family group, like ours, and included children, so I told Kellen that he and his friend could stay.  But only for one hour, and to remember that they were having small group, so please be respectful of that.  And absolutely do not eat any of the food, because they weren’t expecting two more kids, and that would be rude.  But yes, they could stay for an hour.

As I was putting down the phone, I heard Kellen yell, “Yeah, we can stay, but we’re not allowed to eat any of your food!”

I sure hope my neighbor Val took that the way it was intended, and didn’t think I was implying that her cooking sucks.  Because I’ll *never* get invited to the neighborhood block party at this rate.