This is the eighth post in a series written by Frieda, my mother. These are her memories of Sara her first rambunctious child and their adventures on the mission field. Click this link to start at the beginning.
One day when she was about three, I took her to the post office with me. I had to stand in line to buy stamps. There was a priest in the next line waiting for his mail. In Nicaragua the priests wore their ecclesiastical vestments all the time, not just in church.
When I finally got to the front of the line, I turned loose of Sara’s hand while I paid for my stamps. When I looked up, she was on the floor by the priest, trying to look under his robe! I exclaimed, “Sara, what are you doing?” She explained innocently (in Spanish, of course, so everyone understood), “I just wanted to see if he had pants on under there.”