boys in church

  We are Catholic people.  We hit up church every Sunday, usually in the evening because between the hubby and I, we can't seem to get our act together in the morning. I rationalize that this is actually better because the 6:00 crowd generally seems to fawn over my kiddos and don't seem to mind the toddler chatter.   Additionally in the evening, with any luck, one, two or all three kids have been know to snooze through the homily. Mass is only an hour, but always included some giggles and being mortified at least once.  In an attempt to bribe Declan into being well behaved and quiet, I told him that we were going to Planet Sub for dinner and if he was really good, he could have his very own cookie.  He stared up into my eyes and said frnakly, "and if you are really good Mommy, you can have a bite of my cookie." I said great and shook his hand, the deal had been made. 
  Buddy then began his line of questioning.  "Why is Jesus on the cross? He looks pretty sad to me. Why is he sad?" Wow, I thought, this is pretty deep for a four year old, how are you supposed to answer this? So I responded with he's on the cross so we can all go to heaven. Jesus is sad when we are not nice to each other, especially our brother.  Buddy interpretted this to mean, we need to be nice to our brother to make Jesus happy, so already the Catholic guilt is working nicely. 
      Declan, woke up in a grumpy mood, or as he would say, "angry and disappointed" and clenched a little fist in front of my face.  His fist was so tight it grew pale and began to shake just inches in front of my eyes.  His little face was scrunched, his brow furrowed.  I'm not sure what look I gave him, but he glanced at me, got a devilish look on his face, and opened up his hand.  He grabbed my hand, slammed his into it and called out "high five." He then closed both our hands, gave me a fist bump and proceeded to "blow it up" at which I thought the family behind is was then going to lose it.  Declan picked up on this quickly and began blowing them kisses and giggling at them. Both boys shook every person's hand in front and behind us to wish them peace and we were on the home stretch. We only had communion left and we'd accomplish an hour of mass with no embarrassments.  At this point, Finley woke up and started fussing, the boys began to bicker and the downward inevitable spiral began.  But, what do you do?  Pray, right?