Get Thee Behind Me, Satan - Ten-Year-Old Style

On Monday night, the younger boys and I were attempting Family Home Evening. I had a plan. I was stealing that plan from someone else, but it was still a plan. (Actually I was stealing it from a class at our Stake Relief Society Enrichment last weekend, so I guess it's not really stealing. It was there for our use, right?)

ANYWAY

I was silly enough to have put off making some GF peanut butter cookies (1 cup peanut butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 egg--can't beat it), so that I was trying to have our lesson while monitoring the cookies in the GF-only toaster oven. Lots of mistakes already. Should've baked them in the big oven. I'll make a note for next time. And I'm trying to talk about tithing and all that stuff while mixing up the batter and putting out the cookies. Ugh. Dumb. A recipe for frustration. And it was--sort of.

The cookies did not turn out well. I had trouble getting them off the teeny-tiny tray and they fell apart. (They were still tasty--once I got over the fact that they no longer looked like cookies.) I was frustrated with that trouble and was throwing away the foil from the cookie sheet. The trash can was full. Filled to overflowing. So I had to stuff the wadded-up-straight-from-the-oven foil down into the trash can. Hit a hot spot and burned my finger. ARGH! Ranted about why no one else in this house can seem to take out the trash. Everyone just keeps piling it on.

James immediately came over and said, "I'll take it out." What a guy. He's the one who will always notice when someone needs help. Brought me up a bit and I said to the boys, "You know why we have troubles like this? Because Satan doesn't want us to have FHE. He knows that FHE is something that will make our family stronger and he doesn't want that. And so these little frustrations happen and Satan taps us (ok, usually me) on the shoulder and whispers in my ear how annoying it is and how hard it is and wouldn't it be easier to just watch TV instead.

So, James comes in from taking out the trash. Here's the conversation:
James: I talked with Satan while I was outside.
Me (on the outside): Really. (on the inside): What are you doing talking with Satan? Ack!
James: Yeah. I told him I really hated him and that it's a good thing he doesn't have a body. Because if he had a body, I'd punch him really hard right in the privates.
Me: Oh. Well. Good for you. That's the spirit!

So there ya go. A ten-year-old boy's version of "get thee behind me, Satan." Just punch him in the you-know-whats.

I can't help thinking that Heavenly Father had to be smiling.