Screaming summons me into the living room.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Dom, who’d been watching the baby, “Did she fall?”
No, evidently, he’d wondered what the black object was that she’d been moving around on the coffee table. Closer inspection revealed a large struggling housefly. He knocked it out of her hand and then swatted it with his fist. (He points to the large corpse in the trash can.) Either she was mad at losing her toy (or her snack?) or she was scared by the sudden motion.
Either she’s a budding naturalist or the next karate kid.
My babies’ names are all there, too, Melanie.
I like to picture them all up there in heaven, cheering us on, and I look forward to the day I’ll meet them face to face.
Thanks for the link, Melanie.When I was in New York, at the Shrine of the Holy Innocents, I was upset that the book is under glass, and couldn’t be read, however, I remembered that my son’s names are written in the Book of Life. Kimberly Hahn, in “Rome Sweet Home”, spoke movingly of the special contact we have with our children in Heaven when we attend Holy Mass, accompanied by the entire “great cloud of witnesses”. At Mass, I always tell my boys to pray for us, I am, after all, their mother!