Going to Hell

My husband’s family is religious. Not go to Church on Easter, Christmas, Ash Wednesday…I mean my mother in law goes to mass every day, no exceptions. She once had bed rest after her 9th baby, and the priest came to the house and gave her “full” mass in bed, and took her confession once a week. Hard core Catholic. My husband and I, hmmm, not so much.
It was one of my nieces First Communion, and we were running late, my Dad dropped everyone off at the front of the Church and went to park the car a couple of blocks away, of course Hairy #1 went with him because they are attached at the hip. The rest of us found our seats and quickly sat down, a few minutes later my dad and my oldest son came in and sat in back of the Church as to not make too much of a disturbance.
You may or may not know, but in Latin America Churches are VERY ornate and Jesus on the cross is very realistic and gory. Not 2 minutes have gone by when in the silent church I hear my son SCREAMING “Grampa! Who is that man?? Grampa! Oh no, what did they do to him, Grampa he has BLOOOOOOOOOD! Uh-oh, not good, Grampa! He has “owies” Grampa” Everyone is bilingual in the Church but only one persons kids speak English like gringos and only one persons kids call their “Abuleito” GRAMPA, that one person is me. At that moment everyone know my son had not been inside a Church since the day he was baptized and had NO idea who the "gman" on the cross was! I just looked straight ahead and ignored everyone giving me the evil eye and pretended like I had no idea whose kid that was….I know, I know , I’m going straight to HELL!!!!!!!


Oh, TOVA DARLING, thank you for embracing our awkwardness...