At the end of Mass this Sunday, the priest said to me, “Kiddo#4 did good,” and I replied, “I think I owe a hand-written apology to everyone sitting on this side of the church.”
Mass began. It was the Feast Of The Holy Family. Father begins with a heartfelt statement about imitating the peace of the Holy Family in our own homes. Kiddo#4 lets out a hearty “NO!”
And so it begins.
I’ll just give you the rundown: Kiddo#1 was five shades of embarrassed because in the row before him were two girls he knew from school, who squealed when they saw him.
I missed that because Kiddo#2 was in A MegaSnit because of something involving her tights or her boots. I don’t remember what, nor do I care. I threatened her with everything under the sun to get her into the church, finally sitting with her in the car saying, “If you don’t go into the church, we’ll say the rosary together in the car until Mass lets out, and then we’ll wait until the noon Mass and attend that instead.” She got out.
But back to Kiddo#4. He’s a smart child, learning to talk. He has realized that if you add an S to the end of the word, it becomes plural. If I put little form-fitting pieces of clothing on his feet, for example, those are socks, whereas only one is a sock.
And when you have lots of cardboard containers delivered by the UPS guy, those are “Box.” One of them, alone, is a bach.
During Mass, right at the beginning, when it was quiet, Kiddo#4 saw something he thought was a fox.
Only one of it.
There are only so many times you can whisper at Mass, “Yes, that’s a fox,” humiliated, knowing everyone around you at church either has raised a child and is having a good laugh at your expense, or else has not raised a child and is thinking heaven-knows-what about the kind of boy you’re raising.
To Everyone at The Angelborough Church Of The Holy Angels, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m heartily sorry.