It's official. My oldest daughter is now a third grader. And the most exciting thing about it is that she's in Catholic school this year. It's nice to have her in an educational environment that's focused on faith. I'm jealous (apologies to the tenth commandment) and wish I could enroll!
Fortunately for my daughter, she already has a pretty good grasp of the prayers she'll be expected to learn in school this year. She even spotted a typo while reading the Creed. I'm quite sure that Jesus did not ascend into "heave."
I've been telling my daughter things about my third grade year way back in the day. My third grade teacher was (hmmm, how can I say this politely?) rather quirky. She had a pet tarantula which she kept in the classroom and let the students pet it. I could write a whole blog post about some of the odd things that happened when I was in third grade. Stay tuned.
As for my younger daughter who is rapidly approaching the age of two, she definitely has a the potential to have a good prayer life ahead of her. If you hand her rosary beads, she'll say, "Hail Mary God" over and over.
We could have used some prayers on the way home from the orientation meeting at my daughter's school last week. In the same stretch of rural two-lane road we encountered loose horses blocking traffic, a large branch in the middle of the road which slithered away as we approached (big snake!) and finally, a huge farm vehicle heading towards us taking up both lanes. I wasn't interested in playing chicken, so I pulled off into the grass. As the vehicle passed, I looked way up at the farmer behind the wheel to give him a courtesy wave. And I figured he'd do the same since I was nice enough to get out of the way. But he didn't even look.
I thought I was having a bad flashback the other day as I pulled up to our house and saw a new phone book on the front step. They still print phone books? And who is "they" anyway? This one went straight from the front step into the recycle bin. I should have taken a picture of it for Throwback Thursday or sent the phone book to the Smithsonian.
I can't believe this week marked the twentieth anniversary of the worst strike in Major League Baseball (MLB) history. I was living in Florida at the time and when spring training rolled around in 1995, I bought a ticket to see what would have been the first regular season MLB game using replacement players. As I recall, the strike was called off a day or two before the game. While it would have been an interesting game to attend, I'm glad it didn't happen. Play ball.
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