Mrs. Smith: "So...Isaac is going to play baby Jesus in the Christmas program."
Mr. Smith: "Cool."
Mrs. Smith: "And it just makes sense for me to play Mary. You know, it's not like he's going to sit with someone else all that time."
Mr. Smith: "Uh-huh."
Mrs. Smith: "And I really don't want some strange Joseph..."
Mr. Smith: (silence)
Mr. Smith: (glare)
Mr. Smith: (smirk)
Mrs. Smith: "I think it will be fun!"
Mr. Smith: (Mr. Smith is gone, he has left the room)
And when I told him we were to be in full character, costumed, with lines? Well, let's just say he was less than thrilled.
Then, the big day came and something miraculous happened.
They put us in a small, dimly lit room. They had set up a stable scene, complete with (wooden) donkey, (ceramic) sheep, (live) angel, and a rustic wooden manger with straw and soft white fleece for our little baby Jesus. It was showtime. Time for him to act like the Heaven-sent One he was representing.
That he did. He smiled, he cooed, he stuck his tongue out (ok, it was cute to us), and after one brief nursing session (during which no children were traumatized, I promise), he went to sleep. It looked a little something like this:
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