There was a little girl
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad,
she was horrid.
This past weekend the girls and I went to mass on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, Meghan cried almost the entire time and Camille squirmed, fidgeted and talked throughout the mass. Camille is usually pretty good, but this weekend she was terrible. In addition, I was short a pair of hands as Ken was out of town. She lost right to get donuts after mass by the time the gospel started.
For some reason at communion, Camille decided to behave. She put her hands together like an acolyte at a Latin mass and held them in that manner while walking up the aisle, bowed her head to receive a blessing, and then kept her hands together during the entire walk to the back of the church.
Furthermore, as she passed by the holy water font, she expertly dipped her right hand in and made the sign of the cross reverently. Before re-entering the pew, she genuflected with utmost sincerity. During announcements, she asked me if she could finally talk to "her friend Jesus" then knealt down and told him her worries (monsters under the bed and wolves that could eat little Camille Purple-hoodie).
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
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