So, today was Ash Wednesday, and our little family did as it always has ... Jorde played Masses at church, I went to the service that fits best in my work day, and Maggie attended Mass with my parents. A bit disjointed and un-together, but it's the best way we know how to observe this day right now.
This was the first year that Maggie was old enough to ask questions, of which there were surprisingly few because all she cared about was getting ashes on her forehead.
Let's just say, the girl was less than thrilled.
My mom said that when it was their turn, she received her ashes first, and when the gentleman went to give Maggie's, Maggie leaned way back in my mom's arms in an attempt to avoid them.
Maggie did get her ashes, but walking back to their pew she was, apparently, a bit indignant.
"Nana, dey put duut on my head!"
To say she didn't like the dirt may be the understatement of the year. After Mass, she and my parents went out to breakfast, and while at the restaurant Maggie asked my mom for a wipey (wet wipe), so my mom asked her why she needed it. Maggie told her that she wanted to cwean the duut.
When Maggie and I got home last night, I was getting her out of her car seat and she pointed to my forehead saying, "Mama, you got duut on you head." I acknowledged that yes, I did, and they were called ashes, and gave a simple little sentence about Ash Wednesday and why we wear ashes.
My sweet girl thought a moment, then replied: "I don't yike da duut."
