Happy Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel! Today is our sweet Maria's patron feastday. It was pretty simple, but there was pizza ordered for dinner ("Pee-zah!" is her current favorite food) and ice cream at Culver's for dessert. Simple, but lovely.
This post is devoted to Maria, on her patron saint day!
Maria is in love with Therese. Whatever "Sissy" does, she wants to do. Going to the library and Sissy is walking up to the counter to check out some books? Must slide her own book beside Sissy's. Sissy is going the bathroom? "Potty! Potty! Sissy!" Must sit on her baby potty, so that she looks just like Sissy. Even when we tuck her in to bed, we can hear throughout the house a little voice saying, "Seee-seee!!! Seeee-seee!!" trying to wake up her big sister. They are best friends, and the feeling is totally mutual.
I was assured of this the other day, by the following conversation:
Therese (to Maria): You're my best friend, forever and ever!! Until we die!
Me: Well, even when you die, hopefully you'll both be in heaven together.
Therese: Yeah, but we won't be together because we'll be with our patron saints.
Me: Well, but you'll all be with Jesus. And your patron saints are friends.
Therese: Yeah, I'll see [Maria with the Blessed Mother] and be like, "Hi!"
Pre-K theology never disappoints.
Also mutual is their love for the "Blue Restaurant." A patronal feastday wouldn't be the same without a trip out for ice cream!!!
I came downstairs the other day and discovered this. Someone made St. Anthony a bishop.
I really love Incarnational theology according to a one year old:
Maria (pointing to the cross above the bed): Jee-us?
Maria (pointing to the picture of Mary): Huh-uh?
Me: That's Mary.
Me: Did Mary and Jesus go potty?
Maria (hesitantly): No....
Me: Actually, they did go potty!
Me: Yes, Jesus went potty.
Me: Yes, Mary went potty.
Since then, a discussion about whether or not Jesus and Mary went potty when they were on earth is a part of our nightly pre-bedtime ritual.
Aren't baby haircuts the most bittersweet thing ever? Her hair became scraggly overnight and it was just time. Unfortunately, being a one-year old who can't stop moving, meant we didn't have a ceremonial first visit to a hair cutting salon. But, honestly? Doing it at home with her made it slightly less emotional. Slightly.