I've never really been good with children. I've never had any of my own, and I wasn't particularly stellar as a babysitter when I was a teenager. But that doesn't discourage churches that I've attended from asking me to help out in the nursery.
You can read about one of my nursery experiences here.
There is a young single mom who attends our church's mid-week Bible study. Her four-year-old daughter, Holly, accompanies her. Holly would be bored to distraction in the adult Bible study, so each week two or three of the women have been taking turns staying with Holly in the nursery for the duration of the study.
When more volunteers were sought, I didn't raise my hand.
But, the next week, Holly herself asked me to go to the nursery with her. I figured, since she specifically asked me, I should give it a try.
We hadn't been in the nursery for more than a few minutes when Holly announced that she had to go to the bathroom. I told her okay but she would have to be quiet when we passed the room where the Bible study was going on.
As we passed that room, Holly gave a big wave and called out, "Hi, Mommy!" This was followed by another wave as we returned to the nursery.
A few minutes after our return to the nursery, Holly told me that she'd forgotten to poop when she went to the bathroom earlier and that she really had to do that. I told her I didn't believe her, but she insisted that she had to go.
I told her okay, but I'd better hear a plop, plop in the toilet.
Back down the hall we went. Another wave. Another "Hi, Mommy!"
Holly went into the stall, and I soon heard the plop, plop.
A little voice said, "Did you hear that?"
"Yes," I replied. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
"It's okay," came the reply. "I forgive you."
That little charmer could almost make a nursery worker out of me. But not quite.