My in-laws asked me what kind of “Catholic” gift to get Nathan for his baptism. My immediate answer was, “Cash.” Really, what is he going to do with candles or a Precious Moments Bible? He can’t eat it. I can understand one Bible, but really, the best Catholic gift would be an envelope with a few Benjamins inside. You can’t tell me Catholics have never dealt with money.
You know they don’t make baptismal gowns for big babies? Nathan’s now 25 lbs and there’s no way he’ll fit into those shrinky-drink 0-3 month deals. I think I’m going to buy a communion dress and shear off the bottom. It’s a dress, right? If I get desperate, I’ll have to swipe my sister-in-law’s fancy lace placemat, secure it onto the boy with a clothespin and it’ll be the first baptismal cape. They’ve never seen that in the Midwest.
I’m nervous about seeing my in-laws again. I think it’s the flight that’s making me worried. But they’re all excited to see the baby. I know St. Louis hasn’t had that kind of reception since the Pope came through in 1994. And with all the womenfolk doting on Nathan, it’ll free up my hands for more productive things, like holding my Lady of Guadalupe flask and getting drunk in the basement.
But I lucked out in the in-law department. The first guy who gave me a ring brought me to meet his family and the aunt who had a lobotomy in the ’60’s hugged me and hollered, “You’re bootiful!” I’ll have to remember that when I see the cousin who last time spent the entire conversation speaking three inches from my face.