|Priesthood might require a miracle.|
I would never force him to be a priest, but I do slip the possibility into conversation from time to time. Charlie, however, has so far proven to be an unwilling character in this every-Catholic-mom fantasy. His hang-up with the idea is solidly grounded in the whole celibacy thing.
He's always had an eye for the girls, starting with his preschool crush, Mary Charlotte (at least she had a good Catholic name).
When he was 11 years old, Charlie was talking about what he might be when he grows up. Professional basketball player and professional football player were both on the list. I gently suggested that he might be open to the idea that he could be called to the priesthood. His response?
"Mom, do you really expect me to go without a woman for the rest of my life?" He was 11, people.
Last winter, Mike took him to the Super Bowl Experience when the big game was in Indianapolis. He loved getting to participate in a workshop with real NFL players, but when I asked him about his favorite part of the day?
"I got my picture taken with some New Orleans Saints cheerleaders and when one of them stood next to me, I could feel her boob on my arm."
Heaven help me.
But I didn't give up. Every once in a while, when the moment is right and the conversation lends itself, I remind him that someday God might call him to be Father Charlie. He remains unfazed and unconvinced.
Last weekend, he went to Dave & Buster's entertainment center with a friend and he came back with a bunch of junky stuff he bought with the tickets he won playing the games. Around his neck was a strand of cheap, plastic silver beads.
"I got these from a hot Dave & Buster's girl," he told me.
"You got those from a pretty Dave & Buster's girl," I corrected him.
"Ok. But Mom, she was smokin' pretty!"
Hmmm...maybe I better start working on Sister Annie or Father Robbie.