Today I attended the Pittsford ward with my brother and my baby. Coming back to your home ward is an interesting experience. You see all the people that made such a difference in your formative years, and you want to show them the best side of you, so that they can make comments like, "Oh that Sven, he's grown up to be such a nice man," or "Wow, look at Sven's baby - he's the cutest ever!" Well today's homecoming was unique, to say the least.
As we walked into the chapel, about 10 minutes late, baby decided to take a running facedive into the wooden side of a pew. I had already felt all eyes on us as we walked in, and my suspicions were confirmed when baby's accident elicited an audible gasp from the entire congregation. He bled a little, and cried a lot, but eventually calmed down and we finished the service without further incident.
As we were getting up to leave, a random lady came up to us and said, "I don't know if you noticed, but you son fell and hit his head when you were walking in here." I replied that I indeed, had noticed. Then she went on, "I don't mean to criticize, but as a medical professional, I thought I'd mention that you really shouldn't pick him up by one arm like that." I replied that while I appreciated her concern, I was fully capable of raising my own child. She then asked how I'd like it if someone were to pick me up by one arm. "I'd like to see someone try that," was my retort. She then warned me one last time about how I might dislocate his shoulder. I ended the conversation by assuring her that I knew what I was doing and that I intended to completely ignore her advice. I was probably inappropriately rude to her, but that's how I roll.
Welcome home, indeed.