At least it didn't break

First of all, today we went to church at the Basilica. It was our first time.  It is "passion Sunday" in lent; a particularly somber mass.  Nearing the end of the very deep (I'm sure, I couldn't really hear the priest, he was SO somber) of the homily, Little Miss- who I could have sworn was two millimeters from a deep sleep guys- suddenly took Her glass baby bottle and chucked it on the hardwood floor. 
BANG!
Ga-baang-baaang-baaaang-baaaaang...
As it rolled, echoing, beneath the sensibly-shoed parishioners of one...two....three rows of pews. 
Luckily She made up for it by waving and blowing kisses to all the people who turned to stare.
"Why hello! You finally all realized you should be paying attention to ME!"
Little One, for Her part, was a perfect angel all mass. Quiet as a ladybug, smiling sweetly and minding Her manners.  Of course, there was the part where we all walk down the aisle for communion.  
A long aisle, looking strikingly like some sort of catwalk. 
Don't worry.  She only took out about three elderly people by tripping, surprising, or slamming into them during Her seriously rockin' dance routine down the red carpet. 
Luckily She atoned for Her sins too, sweetly delivering a handmade masterpiece in crayon and stickers to the priest once we made our exit. 
We know how to make a first impression, don't we?  A lot of people came up to meet us afterwards. All fans, miraculously. 
Church is such a good place to pray, right?  I sent up an extra one.  Something about thank you.  For the lesson in humility, for the kindness of strangers, and for the sweet innocence of my smiling/waving, dancing children.  I couldn't hear what the priest was saying, but thanks to the Littles, I'm pretty sure I got the point.