Yes, this Sunday I brought all four kids to Mass without my Patient Husband there.
Dear Sir who sat right in front of me: There were a hundred empty seats in the church. So why did you feel the pressing need to sit right in front of the active two year old AND where we’d put the diaper bag under the seat, so that when you decided to kneel, you put your feet into the bag? And where when you sat, you got his elbows in your shoulder? You could have slid two feet to the left and been in front of ME, and I don’t elbow people. You could have slid two feet to the right and been in front of my daughter, the quietest child in the church. I’d like to say I’m sorry you got elbowed a couple of times, but you pretty much invited it. I can only keep a two year old so quiet.
Dear women who sat behind us: I’m sorry my active child bumped your hymnal with his head. I’m not sure why it was over his head in the first place, but I’m sure you had a good reason.
Dear Six Year Old Son: When I told you not to put your mouth on the seat in front of you, I meant not to put your mouth on the seat in front of you, not to hide your mouth with your gloves so I couldn’t directly see you doing it. And thumping your feet on the floor was annoying. When I stopped you, that wasn’t a signal to move your feet to find another place to do it.
Dear Teenage Son: I know your spine straightens. I also know you’re not a hundred fifty years old. There’s no reason you should be leaning your forearms on the back of the seat in front of you while listening to the Gospel reading.
Dear Two Year Old: If you kick your boots off before we go up for Communion because you’re annoyed, guess what? You won’t be wearing your boots when we go up for Communion. And you hate not wearing boots.
Dear Eucharistic Minister: Thank you for stifling your hysterical laughter long enough to give me the Eucharist by mouth while I held aforementioned kicking child.
Dear Nice Old Gentleman: You are a sweetheart for holding the door for that enfeebled old lady who wanted to leave immediately after Communion, probably so she wouldn’t be jostled by others when she’s so unsteady on her feet. You are such a sweetheart that I know you’ll forgive me for loathing you because you let the sound of my son’s screaming back into the church after I took him outside so no one had to hear him.
Dear Everyone Under Age 25: I heard you all vowing in your thoughts never to have children. They ‘re not always this bad.
Dear Daughter: Thank you for behaving.