So, on Holy Saturday night, I had a dream that I broke down and had Diet Coke just hours before Easter officially began, and I was greatly upset. I awoke relieved, glad that I preserved my anglic status (*snorts*) and abstained from my favorite beverage for 40 days. Lunchtime, post-Easter mass, I poured myself a tall, ice cold, refreshing glass, and dug in. Sweet Mother of God, did it taste good. The meat, not so much. I had Easter ham, and it turned out well, but being a vegetarian comes a lot easier to me than being Diet Coke-less.
Hank was thrilled with his haul from the Easter Bunny, and was adorable all weekend playing with his new train and batcave. I was up in his bedroom with him, fixing the wooden train tracks *again* (toddlers are so frustratingly heavy handed) when he picked up the crucifix hanging from his rosary beads, which I keep hooked on his bed. He looked at the crucifix in his palm lovingly, making my heart melt. And then he spontaneously proclaimed:
"I pwedge awegience, to the flwag, of the United States of Amerwica. And to the Wepubwic, for which it stands, one nation, undo God, in-di-viswible, with wiberty, and justice for ALL!!"
Clearly, I need to pray with the child more.