Our church starts at 9:00am and in our congregation if you get there only 5 minutes early, you’re already late. You’re doomed to sit in the folding chairs at the back of the chapel with all the other parents of small children. The children then, unrestrained by a wooden pew with parents at both ends, escape and create a subculture of mass chaos that’s really hard to control.
We try REALLY hard to get there early so we can maintain some semblance of worship on Sunday mornings. This sometimes means that instead of fixing Laylee’s hair at home, I bring a brush and do it out in the foyer. Sometimes, instead of feeding Laylee at home, we bring her some cheerios in a bag and a sippy-cup of milk and call it breakfast.
To go? I promise we do not eat at fast food restaurants that often. So we packed up the breakfast and headed out. We were only 2 minutes early but I spotted the very front pew available.
We laid Magoo on a blanket in front of us with some toys where he proceeded to roll around and then get up on his hands and knees and growl (yes growl — like a leettle tiny tiger) at each deacon as they passed by with the sacrament bread and water. I think he was guarding our territory.
When we picked Laylee up from Nursery at the end of our meetings, her teachers told me how cute it is that she says “like” all the time. Example, “What animal is this Laylee?” “It’s, like, a parrot.” Yes, so cute. I, like, swear I don’t talk like that.
Out at the car I asked her what we should make for lunch when we got home, as if I didn’t already know. “Um, like, a peanut butter sandwich.”
“Like, totally! Do you, like, want that to go?”