I heard this shrill whistling noise. The completely recognizable sound of a speaker about to blow. For some reason I was the only one who seemed to hear it. The Computer Guy can't hear high pitches, so I didn't even look at him, but the kids weren't phased either.
I looked at the choir director, raised an eyebrow and then looked at the speaker right behind me. He shrugged. Obviously he couldn't hear it. I glanced around. I was the only one who could hear it. What was that whistling sound?
Then as the homily was ending #3 leaned over to me.
"Mom.."
"Hmmm?"
"Did you hear me? I can speak bird."
Fabulous.
3 comments:
That's just too much. ;-)
I stopped wearing pressed shirts to church because at the end of Mass I looked like I had been in a wrestling match.
Honey, I had to go fetch my #1 and #2 out of the bathroom (which is located RIGHT off of the nave, which echoes incredibly, cause of all of the tile)--got to expose the entire parish Sunday morning to the screams of #2 "I CAN'T GET THE DOOR OPEN!" and then, when a young boy tried to open the door "YOU CAN'T COME IN HERE!!"
Cross volume control "issues" with an acoustic disaster waiting to happen, and omgoodness...I had to slither embarrassed out of the pew, genuflect, and then slither over to the bathroom...ugh...
Rachel
Ha! You just provided a much-needed laugh, as I can totally picture one of mine doing something like this. Great stuff!
Post a Comment