Sunday school had an adverse reaction...
When wee me and my siblins attended sunday school. I remember there being oodles of toys. I remember the sheets of white paper and crayons eagerly waiting for their master to create with them. I remember the musical instruments!

It started off innocent enough. We played about, then went into church to sing and listen to the vicar before going home. They put on a christmas show and, YES!, I was picked to play the ace looking big drum! Woohoo! They said it was too big for me and gave me a small, crap one. I was not happy.

They gave us drawing materials and let us create masterpieces, our minds flowing with wild childish abandon! They timed it so mid-drawing we were carted off to the main church and our drawings forever remained unfinished. I was severly unhappy.

By this point I wasn't much enamoured with church and pointed out to my mum that one lady in the congregation didn't shut her eyes to pray. "That's just how she does it," said my non-christian-but-still-there-for-some-reason mum. So I decided that's what I'd do too. Then I decided that I'd sing hyms seated. Then decided I just wouldn't sing either...

Sunday school consisted of me being unhappy with unfinished drawings just sitting in a church.

We stopped going soon after, I do believe.
( vix0r was not Matthew on, Mon 23 Mar 2009, 2:15, Reply)