So he spent those first few months sitting with me in the back row, the one "reserved for families with babies and young children" as the sign said. The row right in front of the cry room.
I was always careful to duck out at the first sign of a cry or coo. I missed a lot of sermons during those months, but we got to participate in the musical part of worship together.
Seeing those babies on their daddy's shoulders brought back how intensely sweet those times were. It was indescribably precious to introduce my son to voices lifted to God in praise; that the first music he heard was sacred. In those days, I never took it for granted. It was never routine, hearing it myself as though for the first time along with my baby was so meaningful to me.
I think we're a little too quick now to send children off to their own classes. Too quick to bar them from the service "that they might not be a distraction" (as one well known radio-church puts it on the signs outside their sanctuary). (Lord, let me never be such an old grump that my own distraction level is more important to me than welcoming a young soul into a service where You may get hold of their heart!)
I think we all lose out if we don't at least occasionally include them to worship with us. One church we visit when we're out of town even offers a special children's outline to help the kids follow along during the sermon.
Sometimes my five year old doesn't want to attend his class. Because I'm careful not to create circumstances that will make him resent church, I let him occasionally sit in the service with me. I believe there's value in him seeing us worship, listening to God's word, giving, etc.
I hope that as he grows he'll always be as comfortable in "big church" as he was during those first months as we sang and swayed and praised God together.