Posts Filed Under Family Life

Comedy for the Congregation

posted by Momo Fali on March 25, 2009

Last night, my 10 year old daughter had her First Reconciliation (Confession). As archaic as some people believe this Sacrament to be, I like the idea that my kid is acknowledging she has done things which are wrong, like lying and gossiping and spitting out perfectly good food when her mother told her to eat it and then the dog came along and ate it off the floor, so not only did she not eat her lunch but the dog had apple-scented gas all afternoon…hypothetically.

I also think it’s a good thing that she saw me in line for confession right there with her. She needs to know that even her parents are flawed and that we are always striving to improve. Some parents were in with the priest for so long that they started turning out the lights (*cough* my husband *cough*).

Because there were roughly 30 kids and quite a few parents waiting for an available priest, we were there for a long time. My six year old son wholeheartedly appreciated this captive audience, and amused us with the following:

*When I pointed to a picture of the Pope and said, “He’s the highest priest in the Catholic Church”.

My son replied, “Really? So he’s very tall?”

*After I told him why we were there he said, “When I have my First Confession, I’ll say I’m sorry for this.” Then he hit me.

*When his sister left the confessional and was coming back to her seat he yelled, “What did you tell him?”

*While waiting on the playground for my husband to finish up in the church, the kids started playing hide and seek. When my son couldn’t find his sister he announced, “Mom! I can’t find her. I think she’s hiding in heaven!”

When next year’s class has their First Reconciliation I’m bringing him with me again…and this time I’m going to charge admission.

Da Bomb

posted by Momo Fali on March 23, 2009

On Saturday night, our family attended a dinner party in honor of our niece’s college graduation. It was an elegant little affair, complete with great conversation, an around the world beer tour and some delicious food.

The home of our hosts was amazingly decorated and resembled an English manor. It was a sprawling abode, sitting on a golf course and even had a pond out back with swans swimming about. Thank goodness I took my fake Coach handbag and wore my best Target jacket!

After a few Coronas, Amstel Lights and Red Stripes I still managed to be on my best behavior. But, on the way home I decided to let my real riff-raff self come out and said, “That sure was a nice party. Their house was unbelievable and the food was da’ bomb diggity.”

Then my son, who was all pumped up on mini-cheesecake and juice boxes, piped up from the back seat and said, “Nuh-uh! The food was really good!”

Mister Messiah

posted by Momo Fali on March 20, 2009

Because of my son’s ear tubes, I still have to help him at bath time. The last thing we need is an ear drum full of playground scum mixed with shampoo.

As I was lifting him out of the tub last night, I grabbed him with the towel and said, “Come here, Mister”.

He corrected me and replied, “I’m a Master”.

I smiled. “That’s true. You’ll be a Master for a few more years and then you’ll be a Mister, and your sister will be a Miss until she gets married.” As I handed him his pajama shirt I said, “When you get big, you’ll get married too.”

“I will?”

I brushed his hair. “You will if you want to.” Then, thinking he might give me a hint as to whether he has a crush on anyone I asked, “Who do you think you’ll marry?”

He thought for a moment then said, “I think I’ll marry my sister”.

I laughed. “You can’t marry your sister. You can’t marry me, or your Dad, or your cousins, or anyone else in our family.” I left out the part about some places in the world which still let you do that. I’m talking to you, West Virginia.

“So, since you can’t marry your sister, who do you think it will be?”

And, I will never accuse my boy of not aiming for the top because he went ever so slightly higher than his sibling when he exclaimed, “I want to marry Jesus!”

Cheese Puffs

posted by Momo Fali on March 9, 2009

Last week, we were playing a board game together as a family when my husband blocked our six year old son’s next move. Our boy saw his dad’s defensive strategy and proclaimed, “Damn it, Daddy!”

He didn’t realize he had said anything wrong, so we explained that it was bad, and he need not ever say it again. We didn’t need to ask him where he learned it. We knew he had picked it up while playing games with his dad. My husband’s competitive nature has also been responsible for teaching our son the words, “sucker” and “crap”.

My husband, the sailor, also taught our daughter her first curse word. When she was about two years old we were driving in the car when, out-of-the-blue, we heard the “F” word come from the back seat. Before we had a chance to stop her, she had said it about ten times in a row. At least she used it in the proper venue. Clearly, she had heard that while driving in the car with her dad.

But, I can not blame my husband for the time my daughter did not fling curse words, but instead assaulted us with attitude.

I was extremely hormonal tired, and had been working all day while my husband played with our daughter, who was just a toddler at the time. They sat down to have a snack together as I flopped my exhausted body onto the couch. No sooner had I sat down, than my daughter asked, “Mom, can you get us some napkins?”

Irritated that she asked me, instead of her father, I angrily said, “Oh, sure! Dad’s been playing all day while I’ve been working, but I’ll get up to get the FREAKING napkins!”

I returned to the room and tossed them a couple of paper towels before falling back into my seat.

Then I watched as my daughter climbed onto her dad’s lap and put her face a mere inch from his. She held that position as she stuck her hand into their snack bag, then glared at him and yelled, “Dad! These are FREAKING cheese puffs!”

But all things considered, I don’t think my “F” word is nearly as bad as his.