He slung his arm around the minister’s shoulder and peered at her book as if to check up on her… Like everything in his wee life, F found his christening fascinating. He didn’t cry, or even complain very much. He did attempt speak into the minister’s microphone and try on her glasses. She walked a lap of the church as we sang the blessing and all I heard were muffled giggles. I could imagine the faces he was pulling, the impression his kilt was making and the grins he was dishing out to one and all. The minister returned looking a bit skee-whiff, with her glasses at a jaunty angle and her microphone squint. Gratefully she handed him over, announcing,”I didn’t know if we’d make it back, we got in a bit of a fankle near the top there.”
Rod and I beamed at each other – he’d charmed everyone again and we were so proud of our wee man.