Four Eyes

For almost as long as I can remember, I have not been able to see well. I don’t remember if there were any red lights that went off to my parents that suggested my eyes were bad. I know I was clumsy as a little boy, I always sported a fresh bruise on my leg but I don’t think I ever walked into a door or missed too many steps going down the stairs. I just did normal, traditional, all-American boy stuff like fall off fences or out of cars.

I do remember when I was so young and impressionable I thought glasses were cool. I saw older kids wearing glasses and thought, “I need to get myself some of them there glasses.” To me, when I was younger, glasses were kind of like braces. I used to pray to God and Jesus every night too I give me messed up teeth just so I could wear braces. I thought braces looked cool and were more of a fashion statement as opposed to corrective dental work. The same held true for glasses. At the time, nobody had glasses in my class and if I could get a pair then in some way I would distinguish myself from the rest of the class.

In first grade, our class had to get a brief eye exam by the school nurse. I remember sitting out in the hall in one of those small schoolhouse chairs, putting my face into an old box to read some letters. I remember thinking to myself, “If I do bad then maybe I can get some glasses.” You know what I did, or at least what I thought I did? I failed the eye exam intentionally. I was 7 years old and I was attempting to manipulate the system so I could wear some glasses and look cool. I thought for sure I could see fine and eventually somebody would know my eyes were fine and prevent me from getting glasses. Well, 20 years later I guess the jokes on me.

I got my glasses and was the first kid in Mrs. Van Vark’s monstrous 1st grade class of maybe 20 people to wear glasses. Just a funny little side story about my 1st grade teacher Mrs. Van Vark. I think it was the first or second day of school and I had to go to the bathroom. My teacher assumed it was number one and I neglected to tell her it was number two. I was six years old at the time and the length of that bathroom visit matched that grown up boys’ time in the bathroom 21 years later. I ended up getting in trouble and did what every six year old would do; I told my Mommy! My Mom called the teacher and the next day at school an apology was issued to me, good times at Monroe Elementary. Moving along and getting back to my story about glasses. Of course, if you have read anything I’ve ever written then you know I’m good to derail off course at least once.

Once I received my glasses it looked like a bunch of other kids started wearing glasses too. I thought I had set a trend. I did not think that glasses were going to be a part of my life at the time when I was 7 years old; I figured that one day I would outgrow them, like Velcro shoes. I’ve often wondered if I hexed myself for life by lying (remember I thought I lied on it) on that eye exam. If I had never worn glasses in the first place would my eyes ever have gone bad? Did by somehow wearing glasses for such a long amount of time ruin my vision and my eyes adjusted on their own to see? I don’t know. Those are questions that I will never know the answer to.

What I do know is that as a little boy I was hard on my glasses, real hard. I was always breaking them in ways you would never imagine. I think that we had to make monthly visits to the eye doctor to get my glasses fixed. I’d pop the nose cushions off, I’d break the frames by sticking them in my ear to get an itch, or the lenses would be scratched to the point that I could see better by not wearing my glasses. You name it and I did it to my glasses. The worst it got was when I was in 7th grade. Even as a teenager I was still finding new and more creative ways to break my glasses. In 7th grade though, my glasses were broken in so many ways that a home-fix was needed to be done while my new glasses were being ordered. I never knew just how bad I was to my spectacles until I saw my 7th grade school photo (see photo to the right). I think this was the ugliest I have ever looked and as a result not a single photo was passed out at school.

I do not know what it is like to wake up every morning and not have to put spectacles on my face to see or contacts in my eyes. People with good vision have it so good and they don’t even know it. Wearing contacts was such a pain involved in my everyday life. I wish I knew how much time I spent at the optometrist office or in the bathroom putting in contacts or fiddling with my glasses and add that time together. It most likely would add up to a month, at minimum. People with great vision have so good and I will never know what that will be like. . . Or so I thought.

Thanks to the United States Army, I will be receiving corrective surgery in three days. The process was actually quite easy. I went in for an annual eye exam and expressed interest in receiving corrective surgery. I was given some forms to fill out, a number to call to schedule an appointment, and told not to stop wearing my contacts. I went in for my consultation exam on August 21st and thought I would have to wait at least a month or two to receive the surgery. Since I am in a combat related field and we have an Afghanistan deployment looming in the near future I was pushed to the front of the list; no objections here!

To say I have a little anxiety would be an understatement. I’m not so much worried about the doctors as I’m more worried about myself. I’m worried that during the surgery I’ll have an itch on my eye or sneeze at the wrong time and the laser slice my eye in half like a light saber. All in all though, I know everything will turn out alright though. My vision will not be 100% right away so there is a good possibility that this will be my only blog for about two weeks. (Insert sad face, :( )

Above all, I am thrilled that after almost 21 years of being dependent on glasses I am FINALLY going to be able to cut the tie. To think, at one point in time, I thought glasses were cool. I had no sense of fashion then nor do I have a sense of it now.

Until next time, four-eyes out!

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Rocky Balboa

For as long as I can remember there has always been Rocky Balboa. My first memories of movies are of Rocky 1-4. To me, Rocky Balboa is like Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny; he was real. The only thing that distinguishes Rocky from make believe is that a part of me still thinks of Rocky as an actual person. I grew up watching him fight Apollo Creed and Clubber Lang, my first taste of politics came during Rocky 4 in the midst of the Cold War. Even though at the time I couldn’t comprehend Communism or two countries on the brink of the third World War, I actually believed that the people of Russia grew to love Rocky by the end of the 4th movie. I watched Rocky so many times as a young boy that after a while it seemed like a part of history. There was the break up of Pangaea, Christ being born, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and Rocky beating the 10-count to capture the Heavyweight Title from Apollo Creed in one of the most stunning upsets in sports history.

I particularly like how as I have grown older my love for Rocky has continued to grow. I have seen all four of the original Rocky movies approximately 14,837 times respectfully. Some of you may be saying to yourself, “All four Rocky movies?” Yes all four Rocky movies. Allow me to explain something briefly if I may. Rocky V didn’t happen. It was awful, Tommy “The Machine” Gun was awful, and everything about that movie was awful. In fact, the only good thing that came out of Rocky V was right before Rocky and Tommy had their street fight. Tommy hits Paulie and Rocky says ever so calmly in a tough voice, "Now you knocked him down, why don't you try knockin' me down!" That's the only good part but still, Rocky V never happened!

Back to what I was saying before I was sidetracked on the train wreck, I have seen all four of the original Rocky movies, a lot. I still feel the same way watching them now as I did when I was 8 years old, that is says something. At the end of Rocky II when Rocky and Apollo hit the mat together I still to this day get goose bumps. When Rocky beats Apollo in a beach race at the end of the training sequence in Rocky III, I still think the two of them embraced in the man on man hug for just a few seconds too long. Everything about Rocky IV is memorable. Apollo dieing, the beard Rocky is sporting as he trains in Russia, and during the fight when the announcer says, “He’s cut! The Russian’s cut and it’s a bad cut!” However, one of my favorite parts of Rocky IV has to be after Apollo died and Adrian played the part of the supportive wife to perfection with the “You can’t win” line. Rocky hopped in his car and we viewers were treated to the finest montage in cinema history, which I have so graciously added for you to view. (Side note, I’m actually watching the Rocky IV clip for the 4th time now as I’m writing this blog.) So, as you can see, Rocky just hasn’t been something I’ve enjoyed throughout my life because I can’t remember my life without Rocky in it.



I’ve met a lot of people who like the Rocky movies but I don’t know many who love the Rocky movies like I do. Let me put it this way, I love the Rocky movies like many people love Star Wars. A friend of mine, Doug Parker, also happens to love Rocky the way I do. In college when we would come home from the bars, we would watch Rocky before we fell asleep. We would watch Rocky IV over and over again just to see the video montage and the end of the Cold War. Many people don’t know this but a copy of Rocky IV was sent to the Russian Premier before the theatrical release. The communist government was so moved and inspired by Rocky’s tenacity and heart that they found themselves cheering for Rocky by the end of the movie. The part that Parker and I loved so much and I know the Russians loved too was when Rocky said, “If I can change, and you can change. Everybody can change!”

The two of us had such an appreciation for the Rocky movies that we were so offended and pissed off with Rocky V because it was a terrible ending to a great character and great story. Then in 2006 we found out that Stallone was going to right his own wrong (Rocky V) and make one final chapter in the Rocky saga. Rocky Balboa was going to hit theaters just days before Christmas. Even though Parker and I were no longer roommates nor did we even live in the same state, we made a pact to each other to see it together. I traveled back to Iowa and spent a night in Cedar Falls to catch the newest Rocky. When the Rocky music began playing at the beginning of the movie we looked at each other and knew exactly what one another was thinking, “This is awesome!” It was the first time I had been able to see a Rocky movie in theaters and I still have my ticket stub to this day.

What made me think of writing this was Jadon. As I previously said, I watched Rocky a lot as a kid. Whenever Rocky began training and the music was playing I’d knock out a few push ups and sit ups and I’d stand up to shadow box like Rocky did. I’d break a little sweat, run into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror while Eye of the Tiger was still jamming in my head. Even now that I’m older whenever I see Rocky running and training it fires me up and makes me want to work out. In fact, the other day I was watching Rocky when Celia caught a training scene and said, “I wanna go work out now!” Back to Jadon though.

I’ve written before that his favorite movie was a horse race between Wall-E and Finding Nemo but I think the two of them may have to slide over and make room for a new number one. Jadon absolutely loves watching Rocky. It started one day when I was watching Rocky and he became extremely fascinated with the boxing match. His love quickly evolved from that point and now he is constantly saying, “Daddy Rocky Boa.” In the morning when he is asked what he wants to watch he has began saying quite frequently, “Hmm, Rocky!”

I have no objections to this at all. It gives me an excuse to watch Rocky over and over again without Celia’s approval. It’s also nice to sit down with my son and already share a piece of my childhood with him. As I said, I used to give myself a mini workout while I watched Rocky. Jadon doesn’t quite work out yet but he still runs around the house with both of his fists up saying, “Mommy Daddy, Rocky Boa.” He wants us to start boxing with him and when we don’t he’ll start jabbing at us. Randomly during a fight Jadon will pump his fist and say, “Go Rocky, go!” When the Russian killed Apollo Jadon had a look of deep concern on his face and said, “Oh no!” He adores the Rocky movies the way I used and still do and will probably grow up thinking that Rocky Balboa is a real person, much like I still do. I used to have a Rocky poster (picture to the right) that Celia won’t let me hang up in our living room so I instead moved it into Jadon’s room. Jadon knows what the poster is and loves it.

Right now though, he is so much fun to see watching the movies. The other day I took a video of Jadon watching Rocky and not even his baby sister screaming could break his attention. What I love most of all though, is whether Celia likes it or not, the Rocky series is not going anywhere for about the next 16 years at least. On the other hand, at least until Hailey gets older and Rocky has to share the T.V. with The Swan Princess.

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Run, Run, Run

Months ago, when I was in Iraq Celia pitched the idea to me about running a half marathon. I was still 2 months from returning home and thought this half marathon idea was just the latest thing to have briefly captured Celia’s attention. That is why at the time when Celia asked me if I wanted to run in a half marathon with her when I returned home I casually replied, “Yeah sure, it’d be fun.” Not in the least bit did I think when I returned home would Celia mention anything remotely similar to running a marathon. Just in case Celia was serious, I began to run a bit more towards the end of my deployment in attempts to come back in decent shape.

The first few weeks I was back neither one of us talked about running or even working out much for that matter. I have never been fat nor have I considered myself out of shape but the first few weeks I was back I barely thought about exercise. Gone were the days of sweltering heat, food served by Army cooks, and the closest touch to a woman being via webcam in the evening. Instead, I was afforded the opportunity to enjoy a cold beer while watching my beautiful LCD TV; I ate steak that was rinsed down with a fine European wine; and most importantly, I was able to reconnect with my wife, both physically and emotionally. Sure, I could have made time to go to the gym or go jogging, but at the time exercising did not rate too highly on the too do list.

About a month after I was home Celia and I took the kids on a day trip to Trier. On our ride home we began talking about how we needed to start working out again before we let our bodies go. It was on the car ride home we decided that on following day we would start to exercise again in attempts to look as good as possible for one another. That brings up another thing that has always made me think.

All too often you hear stories about when people get married how one or both individuals let themselves go because they no longer have to impress anybody. Or even before marriage, when two people are dating and the eventual break up happens. You hear of and see both men and women attempting to lose weight and look their best because they are once again back on the market. I understand the logic behind those actions but I refuse to accept them. My belief is I should want to look my best for the woman who has so graciously agreed to spend her life with me. The rhetorical question is why spend so much time and energy on impressing a vast majority of people who ultimately won’t matter? If one is so willing to exert that type of commitment to a Saturday night stranger then why does the woman who makes your dinner and folds your laundry not receive the same effort? That’s my two-cents worth but I’m getting off course.

After we successfully completed two weeks worth of productive exercise, the word marathon was once again tossed around. Now that I was home, I began to think that training for a half marathon and eventually competing in one would be fun for Celia and I as a couple. (I just read the last few lines of what I’ve written, and I am absolutely, albeit unintentionally, making Celia and I sound like “that couple.” How funny but sad. . . . . We’re so in love!) We subscribed to Runner’s World magazine and slowly began increasing our cardio as the weeks passed by. By no means was either one of us a poster child for running but we had to start somewhere, and we had done just that. We started.

When our first issue of Runner’s World arrived in the mail, the contents of the magazine couldn’t have had better timing. Inside was a complete 10-week program for beginners who looked to complete their first mini marathon. Celia and I began to Google 10K’s and half marathons in Germany. Fortunately, for us Europe loves the idea of running and bicycling so it was not difficult to find a race that suited us. After brief conversation, we both concluded that the half marathon in Köln (pronounced cologne) on October 4th (the day after a certain old man, me, turns 28) would be the one for us. All we had to do was begin training which was not going to be difficult because by this point both of us were thrilled about the idea.

The half marathon training for me had to be put on hold for about a week because I had an accident. 2 weeks ago, I partook in a day’s worth of mountain biking which was so much fun but an intense work out at the same time. For anybody who doesn’t know much about Germany it’s practically all mountains. Running on post here is agonizing because the land is nothing but rolling hills. The same holds true for mountain biking, the hills are hell to get up but a rush to go down. Anybody who really knows me knows that I am a 12 year old at heart. I always have been and most likely always will be. I love to have fun, I seek that adrenaline rush, and if I can bike down a hill, the best way to do it is like Ricky Bobby said, “I wanna go fast.”

The hill in question had a jump on it and rather than slow down I let my ego and self-confidence far exceed my ability. I hit the ground wrong; I got my feet tangled in the bike making me look like a pretzel as I rolled down a mountain. The result was a gash in my hip a good ½ inch deep, a dark purple bruise the size of a grapefruit, and a limp making it impossible to run. It hurt so bad that when I finally stopped rolling I wasn’t able to scream I was in that much pain. My mouth was open but no sound could come out. It hurt, real bad!

Once I was able to resume all physical activities my official half marathon training began. Even though I had been running almost every day for my morning PT session I had now increased my time and distance. I have now completed my first full week of training, which was capped off by a 6-mile run yesterday morning. What’s most frightening is how even after running 6 miles both Celia and I want to run more. When we first began discussing this topic running 6 miles would have completely broke me off. Now, even on my rest day, I’m looking forward to running some more.

Finally, what I am most proud of is how far Celia has come. This girl absolutely hated running when we first began dating and now I find her being the one pushing me to run and not just lift weights. She’s this motivated and looks this good just 6 ½ months after having her 2nd child.

I’m sure I will update the marathon status as the time (October 4th) gets closer, but right now we are both satisfied with ourselves and our new hobby.

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My Babies Are Growing Up

Anybody who has read anything I have ever written knows how much I love being a parent. I don't want to bore anybody with repeated metaphors and analogies of why I love being a parent because I feel I have done that enough in my previous writings. About three or four blog entries ago I wrote about how Jadon was growing up and finally using the big boy potty. I am happy to report that his potty training is going about as well as I could hope; Jadon is even starting to take his diaper off all by himself. However, I am not detailing a full blown sequel to potty training today.

Both Jadon and Hailey are growing faster than I can imagine. Hailey just turned 6 months old on August 1st and to celebrate her ½ birthday Celia and I agreed it was a good time for the princess to get her ears pierced. Celia wanted Hailey to get her ears pierced months ago but didn't due to my constant urging not too. The best answer I can give why I didn't want Hailey to get her ears pierced at an even younger age was she was my baby. I didn't want to cause her the momentary pain and I didn't want to somehow accelerate her growth by getting her ears pierced. I thought she was still so little and getting her ears pierced would make her appear older than she was; hence Daddy losing his little girl.

Celia made the continuous argument that the younger Hailey was the easier it would be for her. I fought my fight as long as I could but eventually Celia was victorious. As every guy knows, and every woman for that matter, when the woman of the house wants something bad enough it is just a matter of time before it happens. We men are simple creatures with simple needs so it is inevitable that compromises will be made from time to time.

We drove to Kaiserslautern, a city about 30 minutes away, and found Claire’s in the downtown shopping district. We found an associate who spoke just a little English (we seriously need to learn some German) and told her we wanted to get Hailey’s ears pierced. With such a milestone in Hailey’s life, you should already know Photo Dad (me) had to take plenty of pictures. I’m Clark W. Griswold in National Lampoon’s European Vacation when it comes to videotaping and capturing great family moments. The only difference between Clark Griswold and I is everything he did was scripted. Below is the play by play of Hailey getting her ears pierced.

Before



















Hailey is bracing herself for it, she knows

somthing bad is coming.

She was not a happy princess.

Isn't she just the most beautiful little girl?

Jadon has continued to grow and is slowly showing more and more signs of independence. Since I have been home from Iraq, Celia and I moved Jadon from his crib into a toddler bed. Initially he was mortified. We had removed him from his comfort zone and he did not take a liking to it whatsoever. In just a few days, any vulnerability Jadon felt about sleeping anywhere but his crib was gone. That was just the beginning of changes in Jadon’s sleeping routine.

Since Jadon was a baby Celia would sing him his “night-night” song every night. Most of you know this as the “I Love You” song that Barney used to sing. Every night we would always hold Jadon as Celia sang to him and then place him in bed. Recently Jadon decided that he was big enough to crawl into bed by himself and therefore didn’t need any help. We would kneel down beside him every night to give him kisses and tell him goodnight. We did all of that until last night. Last night, as Celia and I were kneeling down to read Jadon one last bedtime story and say our goodnights, he began to cry. Jadon was crying and shouting but neither of us could understand anything he was saying. Celia finally said, “Buddy. Show Mommy and Daddy what’s wrong.” Jadon stopped crying, he got out of bed and escorted Celia and I out of his room. My 2-year-old son then shut the door on his mother and father; he proceeded to crawl into his bed and go to sleep. As we had the door shut on us Celia and I looked at each other with our jaws open unable to speak.

The other change in Jadon is when he first began getting his hair cut the sight of clippers and the sound of a razor made him cry hysterically. Tears the size of raindrops would trickle down his face as he thought he was being punished for throwing his food. I also began shaving my head about 2 years ago and Jadon couldn’t even be in the same room when I was cutting my hair. One day we decided that we would use my set on Jadon to see how he would look with shorter hair. It didn’t surprise either of us when he looked handsome with short hair. From that point we began to cut Jadon’s hair ourselves but with one setback; each haircut sounded like medieval torture. All of that was until yesterday as well. Jadon not only was in the same room as me when I was cutting my hair, Jadon held the razor and cut my hair for me. I even attached a short video for your viewing pleasure.

That is quite a turnaround from the boy who looked like this for his first haircut.

Like the title of this says, my babies are indeed growing up.

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Sunday Mornings

Caveat: If you are overly religious or get offended reading anything slightly out of line with your religious views then do us both a favor and stop reading. While I am not going to slander God, Jesus, or any religion the last thing I want on this site is a Holy dispute.

Around the time Jadon was born, Celia and I began discussing the topic of religion and children; more so what we felt was the proper path to take for our child. While the discussion didn’t particularly pan around the idea of not attending a church service it was more geared to which type of service to attend. I do not have a vast knowledge regarding religion; I am unable to distinguish the difference between Lutheran and Baptist, but what I do know and believe is that the teachings of the Bible, regardless of your religious sect, provide children a good foundation of moral teachings. Celia and I came to an agreement that the most important thing was to introduce church to Jadon at a young age. Once we did that, we could then find the service that appealed to our needs and us.

The hardest part about attending church for me is agreeing to go and actually getting to the church. Growing up I attended church with some regularity but it was met with the same resistance. It all started when I was maybe 5 or 6 years old and began learning about Heaven and Hell. While I learned about Moses, Jesus, and the many other Bible stories, what I most took away from Sunday school was the evilness of Satan and how truly frightening Hell was. There would be times when I was a young boy that I would lie awake in my bed on Sunday evenings too scared to fall asleep because I didn’t want to die and go to Hell. At that age, the only reason I wanted to have faith was not to go to Hell. Unfortunately, I felt I was being mentally coerced to believe in God with the flip side being eternal persecution. As I grew older, I met other people who felt the same way I did. South Park even did an episode where the children develop an unprecedented level of commitment to church upon learning about Hell. Hilarious episode!

I eventually outgrew the fear that revolved around eternal damnation but remained reluctant to attend church. I felt as I got older that the service was overly boring with no attempt to connect to the younger audience in attendance. During my latter years of high school, my attendance began to drop but every time I did attend, I was able to count on my hand how many people were in my age bracket. The majority of the congregation had a minimum of 25 years on me and I think that number is rather generous. I also know at least 95% of the church’s donations come from that portion of the congregation, which meant the structure of the service was not intended for me. What really bothered me was the lack of interest in attempting to expand the congregation.

I remember my freshman year in high school my dad had volunteered as a youth teacher. In attempts to raise money for the church and broaden the youth fellowship, he proposed for the church to host a dance. Once the word circulated to the elder members of the church, they caused such a fuss that a meeting had to be held for my Dad to justify his thoughts. In the end, the dance was scratched. I believe many members of the church threatened to quit the church if the dance proceeded. I don’t know if they thought the dance would replicate MTV’s Spring Break week or an R. Kelly video but the message I received was that a group of teenagers were not welcome at the church. In the end, the combination of mind numbing services with no outreach to the community’s youth made me never want to go to church.

Once I graduated high school many years would pass with minimal church attendance. It wasn’t until Jadon was born that I began discussing it, and as I mentioned earlier, not for me but for Jadon. However good the intentions were of Celia and I we failed to attend church with Jadon. We found out it was much easier saying we wanted to attend church than it was to attend church. Once Hailey was born and I was home for R&R from Iraq Celia and I took both of our children to church for the first time. Jadon stayed with the childcare provided by the church and Hailey slept the entire time. The important thing was we had finally been true to our word and went to church.

Since I have permanently been home from Iraq we have taken the kids to church a couple time’s however I have drug my feet the last few times we went. This morning Celia finally said to me as I was pouting, “Would you stop already! It’s not like I’m asking you to hang out with a group of my girlfriends and talk about our menstrual cycles.” God I love that woman!

My resilience has been that the services have not connected to me. I feel I sit in the church for an hour and get no spiritual education in the end. We have had a couple of different Pastors, all with different styles. One Pastor did a decent job of keeping my interest and another managed to say a prayer for so long I forgot my head was bowed for prayer. I’m not exaggerating, I’ve heard some long prayers before but this particular prayer went on longer than the last Lord of the Rings movie.

As different Pastors are used the sermons are most definitely different. For example, this morning the Pastor requested the congregation come forth to receive the body and blood of Christ for Communion. I began to chuckle for two different reasons. The first reason being I once again thought of South Park when the kids said to Father Maxi, “Jesus’ body was made of bread so Jesus wants us to be cannibals?” The other thing I thought of was my own personal communion experience.

I might have been 10 or 11 years old when I remember doing communion for the first time. I heard what the Pastor had said regarding communion but it wasn’t like I understood the true meaning. As I sat on the bench I watched the scores of people flock to the front of the church, take a knee, and eventually eat the bread and consume the blood of Christ. I hadn’t the slightest idea what each person was doing instead focusing on the time each person spent on their knees. As it got to be my turn I walked to the front as my Dad was with me. I knelt down, paused a bit, and then began eating. I popped a couple pieces of bread in my mouth and washed it down with grape juice. I had so many pieces of bread that the ½ ounce of juice was not near enough, so I drank some more. I glanced over at my Dad who still had not touched anything. I quickly turned my head back down to the bread as I probably put 5 or 6 pieces of bread in my mouth. I drank a few more glasses of grape juice and noticed the people I approached with were still next to me. As began my third serving of bread my Dad whispered to me, “Andrew. It’s not a buffet!” That everybody, was my first communion.

I just hope I can get Jadon and Hailey excited about church, that they approach it differently than I. After noticing the way Hailey eats for only being 6 months old should be no problem getting her to communion if she’s anything like her Daddy.

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