The priest: Jesus loves you. Take care of Mom.
He blessed Tornado E and then Tornado S. They were as quiet and still as active children can be, which is to say, they wiggled and giggled and walked away with more noise and movement than they should have.
The priest: Body of Christ.
I received my communion as the priest blessed Tornado A. I genuflected because some Catholic school habits die hard and turned to follow the boys. Tornado E was already near the back, but Tornado S lingered a yard away.
Tornado S: Mommy! (I couldn’t Shh or talk because my mouth was full.) Did you like the cookie?! Was it a good cookie?! What kind of cookie was it?!
I gently turned him around and nudged him up the aisle. I caught smiles from the adults around us. I was able to swallow.
Me: (whispering) It’s not a cookie. It’s more like a cracker.
Tornado S: A cracker? Was it good? When can I have one?
Ever since he was a baby, Tornado S has wanted communion. As a baby in arms, he would pitch a fit as we walked away from the priest without his communion. If I was the embarrassed mom type, I would have turned red. But since I’m not, I just held him against me to keep him from squirming out of my arms.
Me: (whispering) You’ll receive your First Communion when you’re seven.
Tornado S: So when I’m eight! I can have one!
Me: (whispering) Yes.
Tornado S: (running to catch up with Tornado E) TORNADO E! It’s not a cookie! It’s a cracker! And we can have one when we’re EIGHT!
It pays to have a sense of humor as a parent.