Saturday we happily headed to St Elizabeth's for the honor of being Ann's godparents. Ann was less than excited about the water and oil while Henry kept running onto the altar to inspect the font. By the end of the ceremony I held Henry in my arms and Ann powered through. Success was achieved and we headed back for dinner and visiting at the Hamel's.
Henry sat across from Maggie and they both ate their meals nicely (though Henry finished early and headed quickly to the toys that loomed just out of view).
I offered Henry some conversational advice. "Ask Maggie how her day was."
"How was your day," he said.
"Good," Maggie replied.
A few oranges and spoonfuls of rice went in before Henry tried again. "There is a washer and a dryer."
Maggie offered, "They are red."
More chewing and sitting politely.
"How old are you, Henry?"
"I'm 2," Henry said.
"I'm 5." I remember Maggie just turning 3 a few months ago, but what do I know.
When showing Henry the photos uploaded to flickr, he smiled after pointing and naming Maggie and Ann. A serious face then turned to me. "Where are pictures of the washer and dryer?" Sorry, kid, we missed that detail.
The important things always stick in our memories. If I ask Henry what he ate for lunch he'll say, "Macaroni and cheese." If I then crane my head towards Becky I'll see her rolling here eyes. "It was a peanut butter sandwich." If you ask him what happened at the end of playtime at St Elizabeth's last week, expect a play by play whose accuracy will not be in question.
"The smoke detectors went off."
"There was a fire drill. All of the doors shut."
"Were you scared."
"No. The smoke detectors keep us safe. The man was checking the smoke detectors."
At this point he'll spiral into a description of the long wand the workman used to check the smoke detectors in the gymnasium. This may be his most important memory made thus far.