It's horrible of me to even think it, but I'm dreading mass tomorrow. Last week, we visited a church near our new home. There were maybe a hundred people at mass, all of whom had to know we were new simply because they didn't know us. I really wanted to make a good impression...
First Daughter chattered incessantly during almost the entire mass.
"Mama hair wet." (repeat five to ten times)
"Mama earring, Mama earring, Mama necklace." (repeat five to ten times)
"I want to be all done." (repeat five to ten times)
"I want my Grammy." (repeat five to ten times)
"Where Dada and baby [sister]? I want my dada!" (repeat five to ten times) (Kansas Dad was walking the baby, of course.)
It went on and on. I'm trying to shush her and pay at least some minimum of attention to the mass without drawing more attention to our pew. I think I failed, on both counts.
At one point, she kicked her shoe off and it rolled under the pew in front of us to land right between the feet of the people kneeling there. I had to wait for a pause in the mass to ask them to hand it back to us while she wailed (really wailed), "Where is my shoe? I need my shoe! I need my shoe!" (I don't know if they couldn't understand her or if she really wasn't as loud as she seemed. I expected them to turn around on their own, but they didn't.)
She was quiet for the last five minutes or so. I thought she was just sitting quietly on the kneeler, but I should have known better; she had taken off her shoes and socks and then proceeded to dance barefoot (thankfully not on the pew). Lovely, just lovely.
So I think I am justified at least a little bit in my lack of exuberance for mass tomorrow. We've decided to attend our parish church, which is even smaller. (We didn't go there last week because they just lost their parish priest and, since we're likely to be the only newcomers there, thought we'd give them another week to grieve without onlookers.) Tomorrow, though, we go, and this will be our one and only first impression.
Mary, pray for us.