So, I shouldn't have been surprised the other day, when I picked up Cal from hanging out with my aunt, and was told that he was offering the entire patio Holy Communion (Frosted Mini-wheat style). "Body of Christ... Body of Christ." Body of Christ with more than 47g of whole grains per serving.
We have never played Mass, nor have we talked about receiving the Eucharist outside of Mass in any great detail. Cal simply heard it, learned it, and applied it...to mini-wheats. Good man.
Begin the other night, as my young zealot and I were playing outside with a friend's dog. Cal bent down, pulled up a few blades of grass, and offered Puppy Colby a little macrobiotic "Body of Christ." Gweneth would have been so proud.
Now, I am not qualified to critique one's ability to transubstantiate- but my kid must have given that dog some dang good "Body of Christ," because after Colby's horticultural communion, he was a changed puppy. He took one bite, and was, well, inspired.
As I looked up from my picnic-table seat, giggling at the preceding doggy liturgy, I realized that my son was under the very forceful control of a very. excited. dog. Yes, dear Colby tried to have his neutered way with my innocent 20-month-old-wannabe-cleric. All the while, Cal was now screaming, "Booodddyyy of Chhhrrriiisttt, Boooodddyyyyy of Chhhrrisssttt, puuupppy!!" Seventy times seven- he's an inspiration.
Luckily, I was able to swiftly extricate the young minister-to-man's-best-friend, and he walked away slightly disheveled, but seemingly unscathed.
Who knows what sort of issues this will drum up in his mid-thirties...nothing a little Starbucks and some "Body of Christ" can't cure, I'm sure.
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