Rather than go to bed, Tim opted to join me at Stations tonight.

I didn't explain anything but that we were going to church.

It's a large campus, with a school and a parish center. He mistook the church for a hotel. We entered, selected booklets and took my usual seat in the last row. By the third station, he was asking for our place in the book. By the fourth station, he was genuflecting and kneeling and knowing to turn the page after singing a verse of the hymn.

I thought to myself that Timmy responds to this sort of structure, rhythm, ritual, repetition, whatever you want to call it. My husband says, "Yeah, just like you do." That's supposed to be a put-down, that I appreciate monotony.

Tim perked up when the deacon came into view, making his way across the back of the church to our side.

Everyone turns 'round in their seats to follow along. As the deacon moved closer to us, Tim became conscious of people looking in our direction, so he smiled at them.

The stations are clustered in groups of three across the back wall of the church, between the doorways. As we got to the final three, I was able to tell him, "Three to go," and he could see that concretely.

I think he also responded to the images in the booklet. The wall-mounted stations are a colorless bas-relief of headshots, but the booklet contains colorful, full-scene illustrations of tile mosaics.