Thursday, April 12, 2007
Last week, we had a pink box of baq'lawa on our counter that my cousin sent us. We were saving it to bring the the Great Vigil so we could share it, break the fast with it and so I wouldn't have more cooking to do that day. Well on Thursday, I was getting juice for the kids and Amira pipes up that she likes pink treats. I was pouring cranberry juice, so I thought that's what she was talking about. Then she said that she wanted a pink treat. I said that we didn't have any pink treats. She pointed to the box on the counter that I had been standing in front of, and said those pink treats. I explained to her that we were bringing it to the Vigil on Saturday and that she would get some then. That satisfied her.
Well, Saturday's Vigil is late at night, it started even later this year, closer to 9:45 than 9:00 because of some set up issues. About a third of the way through it, Amira fell asleep. We just laid her down on the pew with some blankets, and it was not a big deal. We figured she would wake up when the bell ringing started and ring her bells. She did not.
I carried her little limp body up to the communion rail to be blessed, because she was still asleep and didn't receive the Eucharist. So, then we thought she would wake up at our breaking the fast afterward. She did not. We made the boys solemnly promise not to mention anything they ate that night, or that we ate anything at all if she woke up.
We ate the whole meal, chatted away for an hour or so, and then we remembered. I had promised her some of the pink treats, and she was asleep. I rushed over to the box, and it was empty.
Rich told me not to worry, she didn't know what was in it, so I said I'd take the box home, put something in it and that would be her pink treat. We finished up the meal, Rich started putting the kids in the car, and helping take down the baptismal font and cleaning up. I went to get the pink box.
It was not there.
Someone had thrown the box away. So Rich went digging in the garbage, it was just on top, it wasn't gross. I set it on the table with me while I talked to three of our priest's sons. When Rich came back from upstairs, I picked it up to go, and got a handful of ranch dip. Evidently, one corner of it had been sitting on ranch dressing.
Rich got it cleaned up, put in a plastic bag and we brought the thing home. Easter day, I slid a bag of sweet tarts in there, and Amira got her pink treats.
And she is none the wiser.