>A few weeks ago, Tony’s brother, Bobby, and our sister-in-law, Julie asked us to be their daughter’s godparents, and when we accepted that honor Bobby mentioned to Tony that he needed to get an official letter from his priest, stating that he is a member of good standing of the Catholic community here.
“Does that mean I actually need to go to church?” he asked me, because to be honest, he hasn’t been a regular church-goer since Bear was very young. Although we attempted to find a Catholic community that he felt comfortable with first in South Carolina, and then Colorado, when we moved here and he attended a service, he wasn’t automatically taken with the priest’s style. It was very different from the priests he’d grown up with, and he never did attempt to go back after we attended the Christmas Eve mass last year.
But knowing that he couldn’t, in good faith, ask for a letter of good standing without actually becoming a congregant within the community, he got dressed the next morning and headed to church. When he came home he announced that not only was he going to get that letter of good standing, but that he’d also decided to become a Knight of Columbus. On the 12th of this month he was inducted into the brotherhood, and is now looking forward to becoming a more active participant, not only with the Catholic church and the brothers, but also within his own faith.
Last Sunday, Tony slept through the 8:30am mass, and because he’d arranged for a friend’s teenage son to come mow the lawn while he did the edging, he couldn’t make the noon mass, either. So at 4pm that afternoon he turned off the TV and started getting ready for church.
“Do you want to take Bug with you?” I asked him, and his shoulders slumped, because he’s taken Bug to church with him before and he isn’t exactly the sit-still-on-a-pew-for-an-hour-without-talking kind of toddler.
“Does he want to go with me?” he asked, and I said, “Let’s ask. Hey Bug, do you want to go to church with Daddy?”
“Yes,” said Bug automatically.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Tony said. “He’ll say yes to anything you ask him. Bug, do you want to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
“Yes,” said Bug automatically.
I gave it a shot: “Bug, do you want to eat an elephant?”
“Yes,” said Bug automatically.
Tony tried again: “Bug, do you want to sleep outside in a box?”
“Yes,” said Bug automatically.
“See?” Tony pointed out. “He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to.”
I offered the question to Bug in another way. “Do you want to stay home with Mommy, or go to church with Daddy?”
“Go church with Daddy,” he answered automatically.
Before Tony could complain that Bug was only repeating the last thing I said, I worded it the other way. “Do you want to go to church with Daddy, or stay home with Mommy?”
“Go church with Daddy,” he answered again. “Say amen and say prayers and sing songs with Daddy.”
Tony’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll bring him with me. But only if you get him dressed.”
“Done,” I said, before he could change his mind.
As I walked away, I heard him say to Bug, “You really want to sleep in a box outside?”
“Yes,” Bug answered automatically.
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>When I was Bug's age, "being good" at mass constituted sleeping on the pew.
Posted by SciFi Dad | September 29, 2009, 05:04>This is adorable. I think I love your little boy!
Posted by Amy | October 20, 2009, 13:46