This has been the year of The Nativity, as interpreted by Baby Girl. Most days see a makeshift manger cropped together with blankets and stuffed animals in some cozy corner of our home. Giraffe, Lexi the Lamb, Bearista of Starbucks Merchandise fame? They're all attending to the Christ child, who is usually either a baby doll swaddled in pink or Curious George.
I guess the Nativity story has always held fascination for me, so I can understand her obsession. It's pretty
bizarro awesome when you think about it, isn't it? Angel visits teenage peasant girl, says, "Sup, Mary. You ready to have God's son? What's that? No husband? No worries! We've got you. Just make sure you call this babe Jesus, got that? Kay. Later." Baby Girl is especially fixated on Mary's fulfillment of this role. Did you know, for example, that Mary and Joseph had a midnight snack of s'mores? Labor makes a girl hungry, natch. Also, Mary oftentimes had to cut out and go to a ballet lesson (in order to get back to her pre-baby weight?). Joseph was totally down, though. He was happy to hang back at the crib with his new son. Finally, whatever notions you had about Mary's footwear being the buckle-up Jerusalem cruisers--well you can just put that nonsense away. Baby Girl has informed me that Mary wore high heels. I mean, what other lies have you believed about the REAL Holy Family, wardrobe and otherwise?
Now that we live in the Bible Belt, there are awfully much and many opportunities to encounter the most wonderful story ever told. Tonight Baby Girl and I went to a drive-thru Nativity. Twas awesome. You can see below the level of authenticity the actors and set designers were trying to achieve. Not pictured: Baptist preacher at exit asking me if I was 50, 75, or 100% sure I was going to Heaven. Also not pictured: Baby Girl asking me to read her the illustrated tract about salvation for the third time tonight. *** Stand up and be counted.
And these? Are two little sheep.