First Christopher, 7 years old, asks me if Tweety is a boys or a girl. An interesting question but not really something to discuss there. For the record, I think Tweety is a trans-gender.
There is the obligatory squishing your brother's hand as hard as you can during the sign of peace. Peace my butt. They are trying to send the other one to the emergency room.
Then they all try to angle for the aisle seat. When everyone is filing up for communion my boys always check out who is there and count how many friends they see. Waving and high fives abound.
Matthew frantically says, "Mom, mom, look at that kid. He has elf ears!"
"Hmmm. That's unfortunate," I reply.
"Look! Check it out."
I did, and indeed the poor kid had elf ears. I was thinking he maybe had ears that just stood out but no. They had the added feature of being pointy. Seriously. We are talking Mr. Spock pointy.
"That is so cool," Matthew says. "Hey, I bet every year he asks to be Santa in the school play and they say 'Sorry kid, you have to be an elf again.'"
In the announcements they said that coffee and donuts were being served in the cafeteria after Mass. Christopher whoops it up with chest thumps and belly bumps.
We are so going to hell.
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