Wednesday, 3 March 2010

On hallowed ground

We've been going to church over the past few Sundays. It's a pretty little church, just a five-minute walk away in the next village. It's where mummy and daddy got married a few years back and it's where we'd like to introduce God to George and George to God, so to speak.

We're not getting him christened as such – or baptised as it is often called now – no, later this year we're going to have a blessing/thanksgiving (after all we did wait a long time for him) and besides, we'd rather do something that's genuine and feels right for us and George. The days of superstition and high infant mortality rates are long gone and I think many people opt for a christening out of tradition's sake.

Anyway, this last Sunday daddy put on his nice, warm, cashmere jumper – just to make a bit of an effort – and was just about to walk out of the door when George decides to have a wriggle as we attempt to get his coat and shoes on. As is frequently the case these days, George had a snotty nose and daddy's jumper instantly looked like it had been the venue for a slug and snail convention.

After a quick jumper change, we managed to arrive in plenty of time and took up seats where we hoped George wouldn't be noticed should he try to make himself noticed. Even though we try not to use a dummy too much, we had one to hand and just about plugged most of George's incessant garbling, and though we brought with us toys that didn't make any noise, mummy eventually had to go in the creche when he started throwing them into the aisles.

This coming Sunday there are two services – one is the 'service as usual' and the other is a family orientated affair with croissants and coffee – daddy will probably go to the 'service as usual' for a bit of peace and quiet and mummy can go to the family one where George can make as much noise as he likes.

One thing's for sure – daddy will be checking the World Cup fixtures before setting the date for George's special day. And it's not just because I like the football – I wouldn't hear the last of it if it clashed with the England v Germany final. Anyway, that's all a little way off yet – in the meantime I'm looking forward to the match tonight; feet up, George in bed (fingers crossed), perhaps a glass of wine and a dummy for mummy (well, I haven't actually come across one of those, but a magazine and some chocolate should do the trick!).

Hey... you never know... World Cup 2030...

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