Max and I went to church on Sunday. 8 AM Mass. I like to show up exactly at 8, because Max has a good behavior mode of about 40 minutes, which is what the service usually run.
We go into the back of the church where there is a "special needs" room (according to the Catholic Church "special needs" means "screaming kids"). We enter the sound proof room with the glass front so you can see the altar but not the big screen TV (see the post from March)and we sit down in an unoccupied row of chairs. There is plenty of space for Maxfield to play and pray. There are a few other families in the room a few rows ahead of us. Max is doing pretty good with his plastic tow truck, his stuffed dog rattle and squishy books when, in walks Andrew and his parents who sit in the empty row behind us. Andrew's mom spreads out his toys which consist of a stuffed fire truck and a Tupperware container.
The two kids make eye contact through the back of the folding chairs. They exchange baby talk and start to share their toys. They are crawling and stumbling and walking back and forth between the two rows of chairs. They are playing nicely until Max refuses to give Andrew the squishy book. Andrew starts to fuss and in order to calm him down his mom pulls out a sippy cup.
Hell broke loose in church.
Max had a fit. He wanted a sippy cup as well. I could not undo the knot in the diaper bag string fast enough to get his apple juice. Max starts screaming like a boy possessed. I am distracted rifling through the bag, Pepperidge farm gold fish are all over the place (Kind of like the fishes and loaves story in the bible)and Max goes after Andrew. Max is ready to steal Andrew's sippy cup and I know he will knock him over to get it. Luckily I grab him before he assaults 11 month old and I insert the end of Max's sippy cup into his mouth to quiet the demon within.
It is all calm.
Max is standing on the floor leaning against the seat of the chair with his elbow, the other hand is grasped to the cup. Andrew is standing right next to him in the same position. They looked like they were hanging out at a bar. It was just like a bar. Two guys being friends, they start a fight, drinks come out, they are friends again. So everything was cool.
I was a little annoyed with Andrew's mom though. Isn't there some kind of parent to parent signal that says "I'm giving my kid something edible. So should you"???
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
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3 comments:
Ha! I mean, ok, that's not funny, but in a way it is... isn't it? I mean, who hasn't been in that situation?
Great story!
POETRY TAG. YOU'RE IT.
Here's the tag thing: 4 lines, the first and third are "Turd in a punch bowl;" the second and fourth must rhyme, and can be on any topic. Not SO bad, as tags go. Pass along to 3 unsuspecting punch drinkers.
That story CRACKED me up! You really have a way with words, William. I could totally envision little Max throwing a tantrum, with his claws out ready to beat the living daylights out of Andrew. Poor baby just wanted a sippy! And you are SO right that the mom should have warned you. She needs to learn a few lessons. I like the ending, where all is calm and they are leaning up against the "bar". Nice visual.
I hate those stupid quiet rooms in the Catholic church. I am not Catholic, but my sister has been going to one with her Catholic husband, and at Christmas we had to sit in that stupid soundproof room. My niece at 1 month of age was the quietest in there. Those rooms should be outlawed, because once your baby makes ONE little peep in church, the entire congregation stares at you and points at the Quiet Room. Can't we just pray and let the babies scream?
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