She sat quietly during the prelude. Played with a bear during the special singing, but before it was over she promptly let her toddlerhood show and started screaming. I picked her up and took her into the hall, where she continued to be unhappy.
I decided to take her back in during the introductions, where everybody shakes hands with each other and says hi. There's commotion, and I was sure we could sneak back in without much fuss.
But before the first hymn could be announced she started sceaming again. Screams that were not thwarted by a sippy cup of milk, cereal bites, or the special book that only comes out at church. The preacher was trying to tell about a sign-up sheet he was going to pass around where people could sign up if they'd like to volunteer to help with special music programming.
She screamed louder.
I scooped up her and the diaper bag and tried to gracefully exit. These were tear-inducing massive screams. People looked. Some of them smiled, some of them glared.
It was silent except for her screams.
I said as I carried her down the side back to the exit, "It's okay, honey. It's for volunteers. You don't have to sign up." Some people giggled. I heard the preacher say as I was walking out, "She'd probably like it because she would be around the communion juice."
I had her strapped back into the car seat and we were pulling out of the church parking lot at 8:30. This must be a record.