Throwing out Jesus

Recently a friend hosted a mom's haircut day at her house. A stylist from a popular salon cut hair all afternoon as the moms talked and all our children (everyone brought two or three or four) ran around in the backyard. There were very few incidents. Of course, I only remember the one that involved one of my children.

Monkey1 came running into the house, crying. The name of the offender came quite clearly from her mouth -- and the mother of said offender tore out the back door immediately -- though I could not understand the rest of it for several minutes. Apparently a boy had knocked over all the teacups. So I took her hand, and we went off to find him.

The mother and son met us at the door.

"I'm sorry I knocked over the teacups," he said, hanging his head, "I put them all back."

Monkey1 had to investigate this, and sure enough all the teacups were back in the little playhouse on the window ledge, exactly as they had been. Apparently the older sister of the teacup knocker had taught him how to properly put things back.

All forgiven.

Back in the house, the mother told me that she had been ready to confiscate the toy guns and whatnot, but her son had said that Monkey1 "had thrown Jesus out of the house and wouldn't to take him back."

I considered this, recalling the various play Mass set pieces strewn about the backyard. "The crucifix?"

She nodded. "After that I couldn't say anything. It was his idea to apologize and set the teacups back up."