I'm crazy. That's why.

Little O is finally getting baptized.

It has blown up to a huge party thing, from a simple sprinkling of holy water and some lunch with her padrinos afterward.

I apparently hurt the feelings of Favorite sister in law by not choosing her to be the godmother.

I told Little O that she is going to start going to church and her face just crumpled. Since I hadn't imagined she'd have any objection, I was *ahem* taken aback at her reaction...was I raising the devil child?

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Mama, church is in SPANISH. I don't understand it."

Poor baby. We always take the Honey's mom for high holy days, and it IS always in Spanish. I explained that she could go to the English services, and she cheered right up.

But her baptism will be in Spanish. I don't think their priest speaks more than a few words in English. I wish Father Dan were here. He could do it in Spanish AND English--but I think he would make us do the whole classes thing. He was my friend Leisa's priest, and he agreed with me back in the day that you don't do the wink-wink kind of thing in God's house. I knew Big O's dad wasn't taking him to church, so why would I lie and say we were going to raise him as a Catholic?

Little O is going to have to go to church regularly. I will get her dressed up and delivered to Sunday school at least twice a month. In the wonderful world of Mexican Catholicism, that will be plenty. If we hurry with the catechism classes she can wear the same dress for confirmation. :)

Big O was in another quinceanera a few weeks ago, and I picked up the caterer's card. Little O saw it and leaned over to me and said,

"Mama, did you get their card so we can call them for MY quinceanera?"

Oh, sweet pea, you have so many dreams for me to crush...