Some more, final, last hurrahs

As I type, Daniel is on the kitchen floor, perching on all fours and rocking forward and backward; he’s very near to doing his first crawl. In church this morning, I took him to look at a newborn child (well, a two-or-three-week-old) and he beamed down like a benevolent little giant upon that new churchgoer. Samuel, meanwhile, went to his first Sunday School class with the children who’ve graduated from the nursery. Karin & I peeked in: he was tampering with the laptop that was broadcasting the singalong music.

His first day of school, and already he’s misbehaving with electronic devices.

Yesterday we went to Bremen, one county to the south, and attended a surprise party for another churchgoer. She might be the spryest ninety-year-old I’ve known. The cheese-&-chicken dip was a work of art (in the “grease” category of art); the corn chips belonged to one of the cheapest store brands. That’s Midwestern church food for you. We also ate those little barbecued meatballs and some other meatballs that were mixtures of sausage and cheese. It was an excellent late-afternoon snack; a little later, once Karin & I had dropped the children off at her dad’s house and begun our romantic evening together, which was supposed to be our last hurrah, foodwise, I was compelled to order a salad.