Anyhow, at some point we family in the first two rows were supposed to walk into the secret chamber of baptism, but no one explained this to us non-Catholics, and we heathens aren't allowed to engage in most Churchly activities, so a few of us sort of watched the procession of red-clad virgins lead the proper Saved family members and the new baby into the secret room (until my mom waved for us to follow). They annointed little Damien's head with a special mixture of olive oil and frankensense, then dribbled holi-fied water over his oily scalp. No crying at all: I have a fine nephew.
(By the way, I didn't see any big black dogs outside the cathedral. And Damien didn't burst into tears upon touching the holy liquids, nor did the gorgeous stained-glass windows shatter. So all seems well. *whew* Still, what were they thinking? Naming the boy after a healer-saint.)
Then off to the reception at my brother's wife's parents' (what are they officially called?) house... to celebrate the baptism, the new grandpa added vodka to my OJ. W00t! Party around the newly Xtian-ized baby! And he gave me a bottle of this amazing hot-sauce only available in one state outside its home country of Jamaica: It's called Pickappepa Pepper Sauce, and he bought a case of it (because he had to become an importer).
After getting OJ'd up, I got to hold my little nephew. What a good baby! I carried him around the house, showed him the Christmas tree lights (he loved 'em), the big windows through which one could watch squirrels scampering, and generally just bathed in the joy of holding this new baby boy who is kin to me. Huh, there is something to this kinship thing.
Hope y'all're well and happy and healthy.