Play Nice With the Banner
Apparently if I leave the blog alone long enough, the comment section takes on a life of its own. (See the last entry.)
I almost hate to write anything now, as I see that pretty much all my family members, with the exception of Jim "The Real Jim," have been having a running conversation concerning Who Exactly Knit the Sweater that Carl Andy Loved Best in his Youth, and How We Should Not Forget that Dad Could Knit, too, and I'm sorry to be cutting off the conversation.
Fine, fine, fine. Jim, don't you need to weigh in here? Got some thoughts on Family Sweaters of the Past?
I'm glad they're enjoying themselves. And yes indeed, they do all own phones. They just sorta like the blog comment function.
So the child and I (notice the quick and subtle change of subject) have been, on account of his upcoming First Communion, going to various educational functions designed to get us through the process with the maximum amount of information and the least amount of ignorance. I like that, actually; I'm a medievalist. I like for the child to know where the saint's relics are that abide in our parish church. (In our parish, much to my amusement, we don't actually know whose relics they are; we're dedicated to St. Elizabeth of Hungary, spinner par excellence, but they're not hers. They're somebody's. They once belonged to a human now residing in heaven. But we lost the paperwork. I enjoy this no end. I would like someday to be an anonymous saint myself. I think there's a lot of merit in it. I think I would especially like it if I were called by the wrong name. I would try very hard to uphold the duties of the saint people thought I was but I wasn't. If you see what I mean. The patron saint of actors. That's the sort of thing I'm thinking of.)
Anyway. The last Explanatory Session we had concerned the ways in which we are to eschew turning the child's First Communion into an Occasion for Sin. This is apparently a big problem.
The problem is two fold. One concerns the banner, about which I have blogged earlier. Parish families have been, in years past, either 1) having big fights centering around sobbing harassed moms, concerning the lack of perfection of the family pew-labeling banner, or, conversely, 2) hauling in enormous fancy banners which annoy everybody else and mess up the little girls' dresses.
The other problem concerns the photos. We are supposed to sit in our appointed pew. We are not supposed to be interrupting the orderly procession of parishioners lining up to receive the Blessed Sacrament (the Whole Point of the Ceremony, by the way) by jumping out of our pews and taking pictures of the Most Important Holy Sacred Moment of our child's life so far in such a way as to disturb other families trying to do the same thing.
I gather that there have been fistfights in the past, among dads trying to get good photos.
I find this hilarious.
So much for the future saint plan. If only I were nicer. Ah, well.
Our plan? Mom is NOT making an elaborate annoying banner, but instead using the kit they sold her, which involves No Sewing At All. It has stick-on felt. No one in the parish is going to know the sewing talent of me. I enjoy this. Like the sewing talent of me was the point of the enterprise. I think not.
Also. Sam is NOT going to be jumping out of the pew and blocking parishioners and taking pictures while everybody tries to get around him and take their own pictures.
No. I'm going to be a model of non-sewing, and he's going to be a model of non-photography.
And is there even the littlest piece of me that hopes somebody will misbehave even a little bit, you know, not actually DECK another dad, but just sorta shove him, so I can enjoy it? No! There is not! Bite your tongue! Also! Do I know my fellow parishioners well enough to be able, if I liked, to successfully place bets on who it is that's going to be misbehaving? No way! That would be WRONG!
Although.
If it DOES happen, even if I didn't wish for it, I intend to enjoy it to the fullest. Humans. Sacred Holy Moment. Watch out.
(And Sam? You be SURE and get a picture of THAT!)
I almost hate to write anything now, as I see that pretty much all my family members, with the exception of Jim "The Real Jim," have been having a running conversation concerning Who Exactly Knit the Sweater that Carl Andy Loved Best in his Youth, and How We Should Not Forget that Dad Could Knit, too, and I'm sorry to be cutting off the conversation.
Fine, fine, fine. Jim, don't you need to weigh in here? Got some thoughts on Family Sweaters of the Past?
I'm glad they're enjoying themselves. And yes indeed, they do all own phones. They just sorta like the blog comment function.
So the child and I (notice the quick and subtle change of subject) have been, on account of his upcoming First Communion, going to various educational functions designed to get us through the process with the maximum amount of information and the least amount of ignorance. I like that, actually; I'm a medievalist. I like for the child to know where the saint's relics are that abide in our parish church. (In our parish, much to my amusement, we don't actually know whose relics they are; we're dedicated to St. Elizabeth of Hungary, spinner par excellence, but they're not hers. They're somebody's. They once belonged to a human now residing in heaven. But we lost the paperwork. I enjoy this no end. I would like someday to be an anonymous saint myself. I think there's a lot of merit in it. I think I would especially like it if I were called by the wrong name. I would try very hard to uphold the duties of the saint people thought I was but I wasn't. If you see what I mean. The patron saint of actors. That's the sort of thing I'm thinking of.)
Anyway. The last Explanatory Session we had concerned the ways in which we are to eschew turning the child's First Communion into an Occasion for Sin. This is apparently a big problem.
The problem is two fold. One concerns the banner, about which I have blogged earlier. Parish families have been, in years past, either 1) having big fights centering around sobbing harassed moms, concerning the lack of perfection of the family pew-labeling banner, or, conversely, 2) hauling in enormous fancy banners which annoy everybody else and mess up the little girls' dresses.
The other problem concerns the photos. We are supposed to sit in our appointed pew. We are not supposed to be interrupting the orderly procession of parishioners lining up to receive the Blessed Sacrament (the Whole Point of the Ceremony, by the way) by jumping out of our pews and taking pictures of the Most Important Holy Sacred Moment of our child's life so far in such a way as to disturb other families trying to do the same thing.
I gather that there have been fistfights in the past, among dads trying to get good photos.
I find this hilarious.
So much for the future saint plan. If only I were nicer. Ah, well.
Our plan? Mom is NOT making an elaborate annoying banner, but instead using the kit they sold her, which involves No Sewing At All. It has stick-on felt. No one in the parish is going to know the sewing talent of me. I enjoy this. Like the sewing talent of me was the point of the enterprise. I think not.
Also. Sam is NOT going to be jumping out of the pew and blocking parishioners and taking pictures while everybody tries to get around him and take their own pictures.
No. I'm going to be a model of non-sewing, and he's going to be a model of non-photography.
And is there even the littlest piece of me that hopes somebody will misbehave even a little bit, you know, not actually DECK another dad, but just sorta shove him, so I can enjoy it? No! There is not! Bite your tongue! Also! Do I know my fellow parishioners well enough to be able, if I liked, to successfully place bets on who it is that's going to be misbehaving? No way! That would be WRONG!
Although.
If it DOES happen, even if I didn't wish for it, I intend to enjoy it to the fullest. Humans. Sacred Holy Moment. Watch out.
(And Sam? You be SURE and get a picture of THAT!)
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