Our church odyssey continued yesterday with another visit to the temple.
And as I sat there, with my son propped up on my lap, I suddenly became aware he was staring up at the eaves and cooing. Then it came to me.
He was born on Christmas Eve on the cusp of midnight. I was faintly aware of the religious symbolism but that was about the beginning and end of it.
Until now. Because as I listened to his gurgling, I suddenly became aware of what he was saying.
'I've landed Father... but come on, what the hell? Why these two imbeciles? They don't even know the order of the Sign of the Cross!'
Then the little messiah did a poo.
