We are starting to gather our belongings from the hidden corners of our Pebble Creek rental home. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve staked out territory, even when we knew it was only temporary. But as we’re packing, we have a wonderful memory of Saturday when our Colbie was baptized.
She stayed cheerful and ladylike all the way through the baptism, almost as if she understood that this was a major occasion. I think it was the little white dress with the satin bow that clued her in. She did sing loudly and emphatically after the service was all over, but by then, it didn’t matter. She was the star of the show, wearing the fanciest dress in the room, and pretty much everything she did that day was brilliant and cute.
It couldn’t have been a more special baptism: a priest with an Irish accent (“All of you fa-a-a-mily and friends, sittin’ here in the charch . . .”), a ray of sunlight beaming through the window onto the baptismal font, a dozen cameras adding an air of paparazzi, beaming parents, proud grandparents and great grandparents, smiling aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles, and friends.
Tom and I are hoping to be there for all of Colbie’s major events as long as we are able. It’s a good reason to live to be one hundred.