During church last weekend, I heard a quick thud thud thud thud thud and saw a small child running gleefully up the center aisle with his mom close at his heels. She scooped him up about three quarters of the way to the front, and smiled ruefully as she made her way back to her pew, the kid beaming with pride. I could see that he was very satisfied with his kid-escapes-Mom-and-pew effort.
That WAS pretty good, little guy. I thought. But it doesn't even begin to compare to my then two-something-year-old D#1's memorable dash-up-the-church-aisle-during-the-middle-of-Mass incident.
My kids have always been overachievers. Ahhh. Memories....
So back then we belonged to a congregation that had an enormous church and very looooooooong sanctuary with an endless marble center aisle. We usually sat near the back of that church since at the time John and I had a baby and two toddlers.
In this particular rotten kid story, and I have a million of 'em, D#1 had a brand spankin' new pair of shiny patent leather shoes, and she was delighted with them. So she spent the first half of Mass taking her shoes off. And then back on. And off. And on. And off. And on. First one foot, then the other. She had a little pink dress on and was wearing a pair of tights that had rows and rows of ruffles on her butt, so every time she lifted up her chubby little foot, her white lace ruffles would rustle.
I watched her with amusement and relief thinking that at least one of my wild kiddo problems in church was solved -- I would give D#1 shoes! I could do that! One new pair every Sunday! The little stinker lulled me into a false sense of security and my attention was at long last free to focus on, hm...gee.....PRAYER in church, maybe? What a concept.
My first mistake was closing my eyes. The second mistake was waiting that nanosecond before leaping into action after I heard the click of brand new patent leather shoes on marble. Heading AWAY from our pew. Toward the front of the church.
I sprinted after her since John had D#2 in his arms. My son watched his sister enviously. He had never made it past the end of the pew before being snagged.
This is what I thought I looked like:
But I'm sure I'm actually looked more like this: