Out of the mouths of babes

Moose and Shorty and I were at Mass tonight. Several rows ahead of us was a youngish couple with 2 little stepping stones...I would guess 2 and 3 years old. They were cute little boys but they were 2 and 3. The littlest one got more and more rambunctious the longer Mass went on and somewhere around the Gospel, hit his head on the pew. He cried, his dad carried him out and every parent in the vicinity, including us, smiled.

We smiled because our kids (or grandkids) were older.

We smiled because we have all been there.

We smiled because we could all empathize.

The dad came back and all was well until just before Communion when the same little guy hit his head on the missalette holder. He screamed, he wailed, his dad carried him out and every parent in the vicinity, including us, smiled. I leaned over to Moose and explained that we were all smiling not because we are mean but because we had all been there before and were actually thanking God that our kids had outgrown that stage.

He nodded and then said, "If it was a dog that hurt itself, you wouldn't smile".

and God help me, he was right.