Taking small children to Mass can be...tricksy.  Several years ago, our fifth child was receiving baptism.  His Godparents, at the Mass where he would be baptized, also had five offspring.  We all shared one very long pew at the front of the church.  Ten children under twelve and four adults filled with fear and trepidation of this next hour.  The father of the other family leaned toward me at the end of Mass and said, "I feel like we are one of those tide pools seething with life forms."

With our first three jokes, we always moved to the back of the church when one reached toddler-hood.  Because the year between one and two lasts on average a very long time.  When the Professor was coming along, though, we decided that come what may, we would stay up front with our little people.  This move was prompted primarily by our deepened understanding of Purgatory and Penance.

Now, go figger, we discovered that they actually behaved better being up front.  If they were loud or wouldn't settle, we had a take-them-to-the-back policy.  But not to-the-very-fun, why-would-you-not- want-to-hang-out-there "crying room."  We just stood at the back of the church, holding the victim.

We discovered that being up front gave them something to see.  We could talk about the colours and vestments and the vessels and the statues and the beautiful holy pictures.  It was more hush up front, so they were naturally more hush.  Not happy, quiet, sitting still toddlers and preschoolers.  Happy, loud and squirmy toddlers but better than sitting at the back with all the snacks and games and conversations going on around them.

We have been blessed many times for exercising the up front sacrifice.  Most notably, on the days when my children were the squirmiest, noisiest, fussiest  children in the universe and I was feeling mortified by what people saw and heard behind us, some lovely little old lady (yes, they were always lovely, little and old, can't explain that) came up after Mass and said to us "You have the loveliest children and they behave so well at Mass, my goodness you must be doing something well....cluck, cluck...so lovely."

On the occasions that this has happened, I usually look around to see if there is a really nice, holy family behind me that she is addressing.  Then I start thinking well, she can't be deaf and blind.  I mean, she found her way over to me.  Maybe she's being sarcastic.  Just doesn't look like the sarcastic type.  So I have come to the conclusion that the only viable explanation for this beautiful response to my family is that all of our family guardian angels are actually cloaking their behaviour to all the people behind us.  Everyday miracle.

The other small blessing that we've received for this penance is that our loudest son, Huckleberry, who clearly received the projection gene from my half of the genetic code would always fall asleep during Mass.  Now, this is truly a recordable miracle in my books.  He never napped at 11:00 am, except when very tiny.   He napped late in the afternoon except on Sunday, when he napped at 11:00 am or shortly thereafter.  He outgrew naps early except on Sundays at 11:00 am and that he did until he was about four years old.  By then he was becoming a socialized mammal, so it wasn't so bad.

If ever there is a cause for his canonization, I am putting this information forth as material evidence of his holiness.