And since I just love being publicly humiliated (on holy ground no less) by a temper tantrum throwing almost three year old, I decided to go to the open house. In truth, Booker was only semi-bad. Not quite terrible enough to shame me into crying while he climbed over the seats in the sealing room, but definitely nothing like the 6 (yes SIX) perfectly dressed, perfectly well-behaved boys who sat in front of us during the movie (and their stupid perfectly perfect Utah mother).
Yeah, my kid wore Crocs to the temple. Get over it.
Now that I've got that off my chest... it was really lovely to be there. Again, Ike missed out on seeing some beautiful, large scale Teichert reproductions. Oh well. The interior was beautiful and pristine. The cookies in the refreshment tent were delicious and abundant. And there were a bahzillion volunteers with too little to do, so they gave David and Yaya a ride on their little cart. Naturally, Booker was too scared to go so I was forced to walk the 50 feet from the cookie tent to the front of the temple.
A few weeks ago, the Angel Moroni was hit by lightening and suffered a little bit of damage. Can you tell? His arm, face and trumpet are blackened. Is that a bad omen?
There were volunteers in front of the temple whose sole purpose was to take your photo. Ours did a good job.