At least I didn't blow up the church

As some of you may know, my husband's uncle passed away last week. So this weekend, his aunt wanted the family to go to their church. This is a little country, Baptist church with about 30 people in the congregation.  We walk in the door, Grace walks straight up to the first row and sits down. Apparently, she didn't get the memo that we're Episcopalian:
1. We sit in the back.
2. We lay low in the Baptist church, because they frown upon our ways.
3. Tread cautiously as our Whiskopalian butts may just blow up the church when we walk through the front door.

During the singing part of the service, Grace walks her little butt up to the front. After the song is over, she asks the preacher if she can sing a song. At this point, I'm pretty sure an "Oh, shit" slipped out of my mouth. Now I'm looking down silently chanting "Please don't sing Red Solo Cup. Please don't sing Red Solo Cup. They will burn me at the stake if my 4 year old gets up there and sings Red Solo Cup."

Luckily, she sang a song she learned at school. This is one of the few times I am thankful that her school is overly religious.