A work in progress

So clearly we still have some work to do in the art of receiving communion. You might recall that last time (which happened to be Reece's first time), Reece grabbed on to the bread with both hands (we break off a small piece from a round loaf) after very specific instruction to use two fingers only. Yeah, well!

We took communion again today. So naturally, I, his communion coach, reviewed our gameplan before stepping into the aisle.

"Two fingers, buddy."
"I know, Mom."
"Don't double hand it."
"K!"
"Just use two..."
"I know, Mom. Just two fingers. I got it."

Uh, yeah right. There was a better chance he got his bed made this morning and that was a long shot. But alas, I couldn't make a (bigger) scene in the middle of service, so I had to trust that he knew what he was doing this time.
And, exit stage left. Up to the front we meandered.

Two fingers poised and ready. Good. This is good. Flashes a smile at Mom. Always good. A shy grin passed at the petite server and then...

Reece pinched.
Two fingers on the bread, yes.
But NOT at the edge.
Oh nooOoo! I didn't think to tell him to stay on the edge of the bread.
He extended his pincher grasp a good 2 inches into the bread, then began to pull with all his scrawny might.

The petite server seemed caught off guard. Then I realized it was worse than that. She was actually off her center of gravity.
She leaned back a little.
A tug-of-war!
Oh my gosh, a tug-of-war on the communion bread for cryin' out loud!
Started by my deviceful strawberry blond, no less.
Okay then, I'm really beginning to doubt my abilities as communion coach.

So we get back to our seats and I crouch and try to become invisible sit down between Reece and Olivia.
He's beaming with pride.
"Look at the size of my piece, Mom."
It's a doozy, alright. I reel my bug eyes in just in time to hear Olivia bellow, "Mom, we need to get the recipe. This bread is sooooo good!"
Oh, for Pete's sake! My girl's picturing Paula Dean in the background instead of Jesus in the foreground.
Note to self: Well now, there goes my Mother of the Year award.
Oh how I looove me some redirection! (if you haven't already, feel the air of sarcasm brush over you now.)

And naturally, we weren't done yet. Because in Reece's world (here it comes, I know you know this by now), it's never really done. I turned to adjust myself in my seat and I saw Reece licking at his cup (yes, I said licking) and attempting to wipe up the grape juice he had just dumped all over his khaki pants. Gosh, I'm so glad I have it all together like one of those moms (add rolling eyes for dramatic impact.)

By now, we were about to share the bread together. Reece made an exaggerated gesture, extending his head forward from his neck while widening his already big green eyes to suggest, "What? Whadda want me to do? It was an accident!"
And really, what could I do?
No use cryin' over spilled juice (pun intended).
In the middle of Sunday service.
Where everyone else's children were gingerly guarding their tiny juice cups to prevent that very thing from happening.
Oh nooOoo, not in my world though. Clampetts!

And the icing on my Mother's Day "cake" came when Reece put his oh-so-large piece of bread in his mouth and began to chew.
And chew.
And CHEW!
"It's gonna be really hard to swallow this big piece, huh Mom?"
Huh indeed!
Back to the drawing board.
Again!

1 Corinthians 11:26
For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

Toni