This evening, after presents, stuffing, ham, turkey and plenty of "thank-you"s, we headed out to catch up on our lack of church service the night before (truth be told, this evening's attendance was planned previous to last night's incident, so we weren't really "making up" for anything).
As the plate was passed for honoring the Lord's Supper, Philip and I exchanged glances. Communion involves juice. Our little one, who was sitting (quietly, though reluctantly) on Daddy's lap, loves juice. She does NOT love when others get juice and she does not. This would be a good, teachable (though potentially embarrassing) moment. Therefore, as Daddy grasped his juice and small piece of unleavened bread, he quietly explained to Micaiah how he does this to remember Jesus and gave a slightly involved (though child-appropriate) briefing of the significance behind the cup and bread. At the end he asked, "Do you understand?"
"Why do we do this?"
"Ba-cuz . . ."
"Ba-cuz . . . I want cereal."
Close enough for now. (Needless to say, she had no "cereal" and no juice, but she handled this lack of snack surprisingly well.)
At the close of the service, as we were dismissed, our child let out her first outburst of the evening, a resounding, "Amen!!!" in response to the announcement of Christmas cookies in the lobby. At which point, the entire auditorium erupted into laughter of approval.
There are worse things our daughter could yell in church.