When I was a teenager, I taught Vacation Bible School. True fact. I’m a godless heathen now, but at one time I believed fervently in the Father, Son, and Indoctrination of Children. VBS was easy because everything was pre-prepared; lessons, activities, snacks. All I had to do was wrangle my class out of the morning singalong, lead them through a parable or whatever, then walk them to storytime or crafts. I’m missing huge chunks of that summer, it’s all kind of a churchy haze, but there’s one kid I recall clearly. His name was Jacob, and on the first day he told me to call him Jake the Snake, so I did. I would yell at him across the parking lot during snack time, HEY JAKE THE SNAKE, and he would yell back, YEAH! He always had bug bites on his arms, and he would pick at them constantly, so I’d have to clean blood off the table after class. His face was always dirty, and he always held my hand on the walk from the sanctuary to the classroom.
I remembered this now because I just scratched the hell out of a mosquito bite, and it’s bleeding, and I think miss something or some time, but the specifics are vague.
