And now, without further ado. . .Audrey Grace.

My mother once told me in the back of St. Peter’s church that if I could make through “just one more song,” we would be on our way home. I was four and I was being a monster. My wayward behavior throughout mass led to her hauling me out to the foyer during communion and trying to reason with me. We’re almost done. Just one more song.

We returned to our pew, and rather than wait for the closing hymn, I took matters into my own hands. With gusto and bravado, I launched into my own self-composed number titled “I Want to Go Home.”

I wanna go hooooome!
I wanna GO home!
I WANT to goooooo home!

Not a very complicated song, but not bad for a first effort, I think. My mother leaned over and whispered venomously in my ear: “You’re getting a spanking when we get home.”

I was reminded of this story today as we packed up Audrey and made our first family venture to St. Thomas the Apostle church. If she’s anything like her dad, she’ll be quite the church brat. In my defense, I don’t think I was the worst offender at St. Peter‘s. I distinctly remember a kid tossing his shoe two pews forward during one of Father Conway’s sermons. I don’t recall ever firing any projectiles, myself, in church. I do have clear memories of retreating to the “crying room” with my poor dad, though. There was even a period when my younger brother and I became so predictably unruly that my parents began attending separate services, keeping us policed at home.

So it’s probably fitting that some day little Audrey will repay the favor. As for today, both Janell and I were apprehensive. Church was packed - it was the 40th anniversary of Father Harry’s ordainment, and parishioners from five different communities has come to wish him well. Thankfully, we arrived early enough to snag an isle seat near the exit, just in case an emergency retreat was needed. I spent much of the hour or so long service observing Audrey, waiting for the impending wail. Every little baby coo or quip from every other corner of church rang with alarming clarity. Sooner or later Audrey was going to light this place up, and Janell would look at me and wonder, do we leave? Do I leave? When do we “pull the pin”? I couldn’t tell her. And then Audrey’s face turned red, and she grimaced and stretched and then. . . nothing. She relaxed and went back to sleep. She didn’t make a peep the entire service. What an angel. If she disrupts every mass with crying for the next four years, I’ll always be thankful we made it through this one - the first one.

The reason the three of us were able to attend church together in the first place is that on Tuesday Dr. Mueller gave us the green light to take her out into the world. “You need to get out,” he told Janell in his thick German accent. You can’t completely avoid germs, of course, but as long as she’s not being handled by everyone she come in contact with, you should be ok.” Well, Doc, this came not a moment too soon. We were growing quite weary of seeing babies born after Audrey carted to and fro by their parents. I was especially worried about Janell’s sanity - she was the one cooped up every day. Monday didn’t help - the final day of March left us with 8 inches of snow. Janell cried. One more week and I’m afraid Janell would have lost it. I would have returned from work to find her with her head shaved, a gallon of chocolate ice cream between her legs, a soup ladle in her hand, and her singing “Jesus Loves Me” at the top of her lungs.

But the snow melted and Dr. Mueller ordered us out of the home and Audrey has burst onto the scene. Yesterday she and Mommy walked down to 50th and France, the cozy and posh commercial district in our neighborhood to do a little shopping. But Friday was the official unveiling. Janell brought Audrey to my staff bowing party after school. It was the first time that most of the teachers and staff at my school had gotten to see her, and it was easily the busiest day of Audrey’s young life. I was the proud papa of course, chucking my bowling ball down the lane and retreating quickly to see Audrey and Janell. The most remarkable part of the afternoon was the noise. Rolling balls, smashing pins, and yapping patrons easily made the bowling alley the loudest room Audrey’s ever been in. And she slept the whole time. Janell as awestruck. “I should bring her to the bowling alley every day!” she remarked.

Well, if we’re going bowling every day, Daddy’s going to have to work on his bowling routine so that he can blend in with the regulars. Remember Bill Murray in Kingpin? The intensity. The form. The exultation. You probably though this was exaggerated satire, but after Friday it’s clear to me that Murray did his homework. He no doubt spent hours studying league bowlers throughout middle America. Even Audrey was amazed.

Audrey’s other big adventure this week? A trip to the emergency room at Children’s Hospital on Thursday night. Having made 75 or so trips to the hospital this past winter, I simply switched on the auto pilot and let the Sante Fe guide us across town. Earlier in the night, Janell called the triage nurse at Park Nicollet because Audrey threw up three times over 24 hours. Not just spit up, mind you, but full-out projectile through-the-nose throw up. We were hoping for a simple solution. We got sent to the ER. Getting ready for bed shifted to getting ready for the car.

Unlike the parents who march their kids into the ER with headaches and runny noses, I like to avoid the place at all costs. Emergency rooms make me feel like I’m in the purgatorial waiting room in Beetlejuice. Just like the recently deceased newlyweds played by Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis, you inevitably end up surrounded by people with missing teeth and shrunken heads, and several years pass before you’re tended to. So even though it was only 9:30 at night, I was forming substitute teacher plans in my head for the next day.

But miraculously, within ten minutes a nurse appeared and announced, “Audrey?” The shock of hearing my daughter’s name called pulled me away from the television, where something called Noggin TV was attempting to rot the contents of my own noggin, and we headed off.

I must say here that the natural anxiety created by normally cold, sterile hospitals is somewhat neutralized by the warm atmosphere at Children’s. The walls are painted cheerfully. The nurses and staff always seemed relaxed. And the exam room to which we were led came complete with our own TV and a puppy dog clock. I had forgotten what a nice place Children’s could be.

It turns out Audrey was probably suffering from a mild stomach virus, at worse. More likely, she was just doing what babies tend to do. But because of her symptoms, the doctor wanted to rule out a more serious condition. Apparently infants’ intestines can narrow or become blocked. This fear required x-rays, and it fell to Janell and me to hold little Audrey still while the x-ray technician darted behind her protective barrier. Janell held her arms and I held her legs, making sure she didn’t move. She looked like she was on the rack. I don’t think I need to tell you that our little Peanut was not pleased. To say that we were relieved to have that over with is an understatement. Fortunately, everything checked out fine and were home by 11:30.

And now we’ve reached a new phase in our life. Audrey’s been released from her protective home redoubt, and has now ventured to a bowling alley, Target, 50th and France, Famous Dave’s, and St. Thomas the Apostle. We have endured our first trip to the ER. It was quite a week, and she handled it all with aplomb. We’ll see if she continues to be so well behaved as she gets older. Her dad certainly wasn’t, as evidenced by my weekly church tomfoolery. As for that spanking my mom forebodingly promised, I spent the car ride home making amends. “Mommy, you know you’re my best friend, right? You’re my best friend in the whole world, Mommy.“

“Yes, I know, sweetie."

I didn’t get the spanking.