We are up in ol’ Virginie for the Christmas reunion. Tonight we dined as a big family at Vito’s Italian restaurant. Then we returned home to my parents’ circa 1886 federal home, with the addition of little cousins Patrick and Andrew, joining Walker. The adults gathered in the bedroom to say prayers for the kids before they tucked it in for the night and it went like this:
Dad led things off with: “Angel of God, my guardian dear. To whom Gods love entrusts me here. Ever this gnat….”
Missteps in prayers = comic gold.
Pause while we all crack up.
I jumped in with, …”be with my rat.”
More giggling, some snorts of mirth.
Dad then shoots me the bird under the end table and I totally lose it.
Walker says, “What did I miss?”
Me: “Nothing at all,” cracking up.
The prayer finally gets wrapped up even with the uninvited gnats and rats.
Hopefully everyone is lighted, guarded, guided, and ruled (although who really wants to be ruled?)
I figure that this is how good Catholics roll.
**My Dad just reminded me that I’m not Catholic. Also that he and Mom switched to Episcopalian (aka Catholic lite) because it’s less judgey. Oh yeah and Kyle and Kelly don’t attend church. So I lied –so disregard that last comment.
