2017.8 Wassail to You!

Like many churches, our church has a traditional Christmas eve service, and we also a time before the service affectionately called a ‘Christmas sampler’ where church members bring cookies or candies from home to share and the church provides coffee and warm wassail (pay attention that is important).  

Now the very first time we visited the church it was Easter, but the second time we visited, with Kathleen’s parents, was Christmas eve. As is my habit I carefully selected festive attire for both boys.  If I remember correctly Matthew was 3 and Paul was 6 and Matthew wore navy blue pants with an oxford blue dress shirt and a blue and green sweater vest, (the pants and shirt were the ones Paul wore to my sister Jennifer’s wedding weekend, the sweater vest was a Christmas concession).  Paul wore black cargo pants, and an oxford blue dress shirt with an orange and navy blue sweater, (hand-me-down pre-loved from his cousin Baby Scott). 

Cute Picture but not of the years I mentioned.

Now all this fashion talk aside, we were there maybe 15 minute, Matthew had 2 cookies, and then spilled the hot wassail on his lap.  I quickly got him in the bathroom, out of the pants and got cool water on it to prevent a burn, and once we knew he was ok, I bundled him up, pants less in my coat and took him home and changed his clothes.  This time he wore navy corduroy pants and a red turtleneck.  We made it back just in time for the church service.

By the following year we were attending regularly, and looking forward to Christmas eve, and Matthew was looking forward to the Christmas cookies he felt he had missed out on because of the whole hot wassail accident. Christmas Eve came, and again, as is my nature I dressed the boys festively.  Matthew wore green slacks, a green shirt and a blue cardigan sweater vest (that he did not like, but that Paul had loved when it fit him).  There was some good natured joking that I should pack a change of clothes for Matthew, ha-ha. But surely he wouldn’t make the same blunder two years in a row?

Nope, 15 minutes in, one cookie eaten and then a lapful of hot wassail.

I asked my Matthew about this last night, and he had this to add—According to him, anyone who has ever been to our church on a Christmas eve knows, it is not Christmas if you do not have a blistered and burned mouth and throat from wassail that is way hotter that it has any right to be.  Who needs to drink something that hot?  Coffee is not that hot, Tea is not that hot.  Why does wassail have to be served at a temperature hotter than the surface of the sun? No one knows.  But it always is.

Matthew said the reason he spilled both years is the same.  He ate a cookie, took a sip of hot wassail and then, “OH NO! FIRE! FIRE IN MY MOUTH!!! AHHH!!! SO HOT! PANIC!” followed by the loss of control in his hands and feet, causing him to stumble and let go of his cup of lava. Then “Wait, What? NO NO NO! MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE! MY LEG! MY LEG! ITS BURNING! I HAVE HOT WASSAIL LAVA ON MY SKIN!!!!!”

His version of the memory had me crying, literal tears of laughter. You know what they say, from the mouth of babes…

***disclaimer, this post in no way is meant as a slight to David Swenson, the former church chef who is rightly adored or his loyal volunteers, it is just some serious hot wassail is all.