The Not So Sacred Sacrament

This Sunday we celebrated the Lord's Supper. As we prepared for service this morning I remarked that this would be K's first time to take the sacrament. If only I had remembered that it was also the first for another member of the family. If I had, much of what followed might have been averted.
You see, it was the first time I had ever watched the Lord's Supper. He just graduated out of the church nursery on his birthday. He wiggled and squirmed through the whole service as usual. He was even more put out with me than normal because after several David and Goliath demonstrations, I had confiscated his zip-lock baggie of coins for the state missions offering. He kept interjecting a pouty, "Why you steal Jesus's money?" into the quite pauses of the music and message. There is nothing like a truly worshipful Sabbath to get you through the rest of the week, and I tell you friends, that this was NOTHING like one. But things didn't get really hairy until the cloth came off the Lord's supper table and the deacons began to pass out what looked very much to I like small saltine crackers. When I handed the plate over his head to his brother, he began to cry (imagine a sobbing moan with many shuddering breaths). "Whyyyyyy, huh, huh, caaaaan't I haaaaave, huh, huh, snaaaaack, huh, huh, hiccup?" I whispered a quick explanation of why he couldn't have any "crackers." He had just about regained some composure when the cup was passed. Missing out on stale saltines was one thing, but grape juice, too??!! It was too much to be borne. And by this time, I felt like crying right along with him!