Nursery Time

April 1981 - I was called to be Nursery Coordinator, and in early May David was called to join me in the Nursery, being released from the Elder's Quorum presidency. One of our responsibilities was to implement the new nursery program, which included brief lessons and scheduled activities. Since our ward had had its boundaries realigned recently, and we had been moved from 18th to 30th ward, we were still getting to know people. Suddenly, everyone we got to know had nursery-aged children.

There were other adults in there as well, but I don't remember them. Among the children were Laura, by now a plump child of nearly two years old, and the Gulbrandsen girl, who wore enormous poufy dresses, her toothpick legs extending from her triple-thick lacy petticoats to lace-frosted anklet socks and glossy Mary-Jane shoes. Karen Gulbrandsen, the mother, told me years later that she felt sorry for Laura, certain that she would be a fat child and adult.

There was also a little boy, whose name I cannot remember, who had such a difficult time. The transition at 18 months is always hard, but he had it worse than most. First he was sick with chicken pox, then his parents were out of town for a week or two, so each time he had to start the transition all over again. David held him a lot, because the little guy was happiest there.

I don't know what it is, but whenever I have worked in the nursery with men, the tearful ones seem to like the men best. David spent most of his time holding the new ones who were transitioning in. He didn't mind, though. He loves the kids.