Forgive Me Father, I'm In The Second Grade

Tonight, the St. Colmcille kids and the kids from the local Spanish-language catechism classes fuse together into one big mob of 66 kids, and proceed to St. Colmcille Church for First Reconciliation (that's the Sacrament Formerly Known As Confession for those of you who have not been paying attention in catechism class). The kids are going to be reconciled with God and their own consciences. The St. Colmcille community is having to be reconciled with the fact that we didn't know that the kids from the Spanish-language classes were going to be there too. It's going to be a long ceremony, and thank goodness I'm skipping it.

Everyone will be reconciled in the end, but I'm worried about the priests. There are going to be two of them. Two priests. Sixty-six kids making their first confession. Can you imagine listening to the confession of and absolving thirty-three second graders in a row?

ForgivemeFatherforIhavesinnedthisismyfirstconfession. I hit my little sister. I was mean to my brother. I took my mom's lipstick and made a hopscotch on the sidewalk. I called my mom a bad name. I hit my little brother. I took my dad's keys and dropped them down the garbage disposal, and then I forgot I did it, and my mom turned the disposal on. I yelled at my best friend. I took another cupcake at a birthday part and lied and said it was my first cupcake. I broke my friend's pencil. I was really mad at my dad and talked back to him. I hit my cousin. I took a cookie without asking. I lost three jackets already this year, and my aunt says she's not made out of money. I called my teacher a bad name and stuck my tongue out. I accidentally told my grandmother that my father took out a second mortgage on our house, and now everyone is mad at me. I was mean to my sister. I talked back to my grandma. I accidentally killed my goldfish. I didn't do my homework. I hit my best friend. I wouldn't go to sleep when my babysitter said. I hit my sister. I lied about my homework. I said I hated the principal. I stole a condom from my uncle and unrolled it and put it in my teacher's desk because she made me stay in for lunch. I hit my big sister. I am very sorry for these and all my other sins that I can't remember, and you're hurting my feelings by giggling, Father, I worked hard on this confession with Mrs. Tierney.

I don't know how long it takes to confess thirty-three kids, but I know that they would have to take me to a locked ward afterward. Perhaps they train you for this in seminary, making you watch endless looped kid confessions in some kind of VR helmet?