I have said before that Sunday mass is sometimes the worst hour of my week. It has
This is a small sampling of what he thinks he needs during mass:
1. Snacks (duh).
2. Milk (another duh).
3. A toy car.
4. A toy train.
5. A McDonald's toy.
6. Any toy, woman - just get me a TOY!
7. His blankie.
8. Reena the stuffed Rhinoceros (she's recovering from surgery, you know).
|That's Daddy operating on Reena's tail.|
9. Band-aids (one for here, and one for here, and one there . . .).
10. Books - but not the five pop-up, lift-the-flap books containing his favorite characters that I brought. It has to be the mass missal with the loud crinkly pages that tear easily.
11. My iPhone.
12. Dad's keys.
13. A chunk of his brother's hair.
14. 3 trips to the bathroom and two trips to the water fountain.
15. 20 hugs and 15 kisses from everyone in the pew.
16. Mommy's jingly bracelet.
17. The toy of the kid sitting in front of us.
18. The snack of the kid sitting in front of us (Mommy, why didn't you bring meee Scooby Snacks?).
19. A dollar to put in the collection basket.
20. 4 separate trips to the font so he can bless himself with the holy water - on his head, on his tummy, on his elbow, and in his mouth.
21. Two pamphlets from the free collection (why does he always pick the one that says When Mommy is sad?).
22. Five Kleenexes.
23. One wet wipe - which he uses to clean the pew, kneelers, and his hands when he is done.
24. One trip up to the altar, just to run around a bit (much to the horror of his mommy).
25. And one handshake and blessing from the priest after mass.
*And Father, forgive me, but I have not actually prayed at mass for over ten years. . .
|He worked up an appetite with all that "praying."|
No wonder that one hour of the week exhausts me more than all the others!