Jimmy Walsh - one of her many uncles

 This is a two-part story:

So, there I was at the family home on a Saturday afternoon. Ann and Bob were heading out for the evening and left me with a list of warden (err…. babysitting) duties for the three kids. The first was to get them washed, etc. and ready for varying bedtimes before Saturday night Mass and supper.

So, after the traditional babysitting tasks were done, I asked Karen, Michael, and Matt to bring their favorite doll or stuffed animal to the kitchen for Mass as part of the audience. I left the room to get the Mass items and returned to find that Karen had arranged on the kitchen table (altar) more than two dozen stuffed animals and dolls “owned” by herself and the boys. I have to say it was the best and most attentive congregation I have had in 45 years as a priest.

Then, it was time for supper. Looking at Ann’s list, I learned supper was to be tacos. So, I cooked the meat, cut the lettuce, etc. Then at the bottom of the list was the instruction to put the taco shells into the microwave.

Now this was a long time ago. Looking around I said to myself: “Now where is this thing called a microwave?” Corralling the nearly seven-year-old Karen in her runs around the home, she showed me where it was. Then, in her precocious way, after she noticed my puzzlement at how to use it, she said: “Uncle Jimmy, do you want me to cook the tacos?” She did and we ate.