We were late to church on Sunday. Actually, we were on time, but because baby John is in the crawl-everywhere and talk-to-everybody stage (with or without intelligible syllables), we opted to pretend we were late and just stay in the foyer listening. It’s hard to chase a baby through the pews inconspicuously.

Oh, he’s crawling now, by the way. He’s been crawling for maybe a week and a half, and he’s just frustrated he can’t quite walk without help yet. This child is determined, and I need to clean everything off our floor at home before he eats it.

Anyway. I digress. John was gurgling his way around the floor in the foyer when a really sweet old lady came walking toward the doors. She paused in front of Jonathan, looking down and smiling at him. She looked up at us, then looked adoringly back at the baby.

“Space,” she said sweetly. Then she opened the door and left the building.

I smiled a little bit. I must have heard her wrong, I thought. I glanced over at Ethan. He had the same face. We looked after her, thinking she might come back and explain. She got in her car and drove off.

“Maybe she meant to say something about his face,” I said, and we both started laughing.

“Or maybe…”

Or maybe she’s just crazy. At least she liked the baby. ♦


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