I'm pretty sure we're goin' to Hell.

Ok, we don't go to church all that often, mainly because of Tito, whose legendary disruptive outbursts have gotten us kicked out of church before.

(No, I'm NOT kidding. The priest did one of those oh-so-discreet little head-nods toward the exit.)

So this morning, being Palm Sunday and all, I thought well, let's all get up and go to the 8am mass. We made it there on time and found a decent parking place and a seat in the back, should we have to make a quick getaway. But things went surprisingly well.

Nat and Mr. Pie got to leave for children's church, so Tito sat and played with his train on the pew and was happy as can be. Even relatively quiet, for a 3-year-old boy.

So Nat and Pie came back right before communion, and I quietly asked Nat if Ry was good at children's church, since it was his first time going there.

"Yeah, he was good."

"Oh, that's great, I'm glad to hear that."

"'Cept he FARTED."

I nearly wet myself in a fit of Church Giggles.