We make it to church frequently enough that the pastor knows our names--most Sundays--and R.J. knows his church manners. Asked before we leave, "What are you going to do in church?" he responds, "I gonna pway, and I gonna be quiet."
Actions speak louder than words. It was one of those Sundays. R.J. smelled this morning. Not in that cute little toddler boy way that makes a mother smile fondly and think about Johnson's baby soap. In that wet dog played in the rain and pooped itself before breakfast kind of way. Stink.
Lately, R.J. has decided he'll shower with me in the mornings. Someday this will be weird. Well, weird for him. It's already weird for me to shower with a three-foot tall man who talks about hot wheels and curiously inquires as to whether my boom-boom is stinky. I digress. This morning I decided he would shower with me. Note the change in subject. Mommy made the decision, not R.J. This was apparently the end of his world. He screamed. He hit. He scratched. And neither of us felt that cleanliness was anywhere near Godliness when we were done.
Against all odds, we made it to church on time. Church is right up R.J.'s alley. He greets people. He watches other little ones. He prays like his 'Sisa has taught him. He dances. Most days, when we get to church, we are relieved, and that peace that surpasses all human understanding does in fact set in.
R.J. wasn't bad today. He went potty. And told me about it. During the sermon. During the readings, he asked, "What's that?" while stretching the neck of my shirt two feet in front of me and reaching in with his other hand. (I nursed the kid WAY too long; we'll leave it at that).
Today was communion Sunday. The bread and wine. Just before we walked to the altar, R.J. reached into his backpack and pulled out...What is that?! A loaf of moldy bread. Furry. Like a tennis ball. For the ducks at one point, but even ducks won't eat a stinky tennis ball.
Why do they always find these things in church? And it's not like I can just jam it deep inside the bag. He wants to know what it is. And why it's there. And what we're going to do with it now.
I don't know what the sermon was about. I don't remember the readings. I do know the church bathroom has an automated soap dispenser that is endlessly entertaining. But, the peace that surpasses human understanding did come, and that is why when next Sunday comes, R.J. will tell you, "I pway, and I be quiet."
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