Sign of the Cinnamon Cross

Visiting Grandma today. So we woke up and I got my children dressed nicely. I rushed us all into the van to get an early start and they all got in the van and settled in for an almost three hour car ride. They hadn’t eaten breakfast so I said we could pick something up on the way. I said it was up to them what we get.

Yeah, big mistake. I know. But it gets worse.

They voted unanimously. Cinnamon buns! Yeah, huge mistake.

Now, I’m not a Cinnamon bun guy. I’ve had them maybe a few times in my entire life. But my wife introduced the kids to them a few weeks ago and they’ve been jones-ing for them since. So I bought some Cinnamon buns from a local bakery.

As they took the buns out of the bag all that melty goodness was already all over their hands. I focused on the road and handed back napkins and told them to be as neat as possible. They were giggling they were so excited.

I was hoping somehow that their outfits would be spared.

And then I heard all of them in unison. “Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts…”

I quickly looked in the rearview mirror and all five had a cinammonny goop mess on their foreheads, their chest, and their shoulders. The two year old whose sign of the cross always looks like she’s telling Jesus to steal third base has it on her nose, her belly, and her elbows.

As they completed the prayer and said “Amen” I was already going through my mental inventory of packed outfits so I could change them down the block from Grandma’s house.