Church

While Julia has always enjoyed going to church, Madeleine has been a much more reluctant attendee.  I found out recently that she even associates a certain smell with her dislike of sitting through the church service.

MADELEINE: The smell I *really* don't like is the CHURCH smell.
ME: You mean the incense?
MADELEINE: No.  I mean the DRESS smell.
ME: The way the choir robes smell?
MADELEINE: No, the way your dresses smell.


I tend to wear perfume sparingly, only for occasions on which I am dressed up, of which church is one of them.

ME: You mean you don't like the way my perfume smells?
MADELEINE: It might be that.  It's just the way your dresses smell.
ME: Yeah, well it's probably from the perfume I wear to church.


Okay, now it makes sense to me why, a few months back, when I was wearing perfume on a non-Sunday, Madeleine got so upset.  She snapped at me, "Mommy!  It's NOT church today!" when I came close to her to give her a hug.  I guess I had the dreaded dress smell, aka the church smell.  Not to be confused with the boot smell.


At any rate, Madeleine recently announced, "I like church now!" after she attempted to follow along with my choir music and join in singing a few weeks back.  So now, rather than drawing creep-tastic pictures in the choir pews, she stands directly in front of me, leaning her back against my body, singing along with the choir.  There are a lot of demands on me in order to make this happen.  Like, if I forget to point along to the text and/or the notes, Madeleine reminds me of my duty.  If I don't happen to have the music for a particular response, because I've memorized it, Madeleine is critical.  However, she is at least engaged in the service, so I can't complain too much.  Today I had Madeleine leaning against me in front of me, singing along, with Julia to my side, also leaning against me and singing along.  There wasn't much room for me to move or make my Sign of the Cross, but at least I had happy children.  Every time Madeleine would feel she had successfully executed a choir response, she would tilt her head backwards and flash me a look of delighted surprise and pride.

Julia, who has learned the music pretty perfectly by now, was able to sing along without needing my help; however, since ALL THREE of us were sharing one choir binder, Julia had some trouble seeing the music at times.

JULIA: (whispering to me in between responses) Can you tell Madeleine to move, because her head is blocking the music!
MADELEINE: (wilting into a forlorn heap)
ME: (trying to whisper to Madeleine in between responses) Come on, honey, keep singing.
MADELEINE: (with as much self-pity as she could muster, as the choir began singing) I *can't!*  Julia said I have a GIANT HEAD.  (Wilting back into a forlorn heap.)

We were eventually able to convince Madeleine that despite her giant head, we appreciated her lending her voice to the choir, so she got over her pity party and joined back in.

Yikes.  I think I've got a diva-in-training.  But at least she likes church now!