This past weekend was your baptism at HPUMC. You had been throwing up a few days
before. And when I say throw up, I mean
projectile vomiting. So, I was a little
nervous to have you in an all white suit and to have you face to face with the
minister. I waited until the last
possible minute to put you in your suit (meltdown occurred – whoever thought a
5 piece suit and a baby was a good idea obviously didn’t have kids). Nonnie, Grandad, Alex, Laura, Son, Daddy D
and Don met us at our house and we caravanned to the church (we had your bib on
you). Your buddy Connor got baptized during the
9:30 AM service, so we took pictures with the Darnells in the courtyard before
the service. Gigi, Papa, Mimi, Mama D,
Great Nonnie (your 97 year old great grandma), Carson and Raquel met us at the
service. You did fantastic buddy. Best baptism ever. When the minister had you in his arms, he put
the water on you and as if you were cued up, you pointed up to the sky. Now, you were most likely pointing at a
pretty sweet light that you had seen, but the minister told the congregation
that you were going to grow up to be a theologian because you were already
talking to God. It was so sweet. I saw you scouting out the minister’s ear
microphone but lucky for him he gave you back to your dad and everything was
done. And you didn’t throw up! I mean you did… but not projectile style…and
not on the minister. Whew! Success.
After the service, we went to lunch together as a
group. We practically took up the entire
restaurant. You got a really sweet Noah’s
ark night light and silver cross from Nonnie
and Grandad and Laura and Son gave you the matching picture frame. Gigi got you a music box and Daddy D and Mama
D got you some really great Bibles. You must
be the most loved baby on the planet.
You are talking up a storm these days – Da da, Ga ga, Baba, Mama. You still love to ham it up for the camera…. CHEESE!!! You love your missy cat. I wish she loved you as much as you love her.
It is challenging to feed you but we get through it. And you still hate to be strapped into the car seat, or strapped onto your changing table so that we can change you or your diaper.

































