The grape juice of the new and everlasting covenant

I just got back to my daughter's class' reinactment of the Last Supper. She got to play St. Peter and, woo-woo, got to sit next to Jesus. It was pretty cute. She was just excited because they were going to really eat pita bread and drink grape juice.

I got there early to help the kids with their costumes (and Baby Boy dumped a load while we were there. Nice). The girl disciples were staying pretty modest, their parents making tunics with sleeves. But the boys all decided to go shirtless, tie their sheets like togas and roll up their pant legs so as to show off the fact they were wearing sandals (because I'm sure James the Lesser wore black Hot Wheels sandals).

The day before, I went to the doctor to see why the hell I'm getting vertigo lately. Yeah, turns out he figures I'm big time anemic. And I thought the dark circles under my eyes were because I'm not getting enough sleep.

My kids aren't performers. Check out Eugene Mirman's Blister in the Sun. I swear, he teefed this rendition from Middle Child.