Holy Infant, so Tender and Mild

This year, Lil' Miss is playing the angel in her preschool's Christmas Nativity and I can't decide if I'm more excited to see her perform or to see Baby Dude's reaction from the front row. I know, first hand, that holiday entertainment can come in the most unexpected ways.

Every Christmas, my community Bible study also puts on a reinactment of the Navitity for the kids in the children's program. The teachers construct a pretty cool-looking manger scene and perform a theatrical retelling of the story. It's very dramatic. Plus, their costumes look historically accurate which always earns an extra point in my book. All the VIP's are there: the shepherds, wise men, animals, an angel, Mary, Joseph, and of course, baby Jesus. The kids LOVE it.

A couple of years ago, the head honchos in the children's department decided to get all fancy and scrap the plastic baby Jesus doll for a REAL baby instead. I'm guessing the "baby-saves-the-world" theme was a hard sell to kids who were probably wondering, "Why isn't he moving? Or crying? Save the world? How 'bout just BLINK YOUR EYES, baby Jesus? Let's start with that!"

So, about this time two years ago, the children's director peeked her head into my Bible study group, the group specifically for new moms. She was full of smiles and hellos but there was something suspicious about the way she never made eye contact with us. She was too busy inspecting the precious cargo in our arms. She just stood there, smiling and scanning the room like a hungry lion among gazelles. "We need a baby. A strapping young lad who can handle a tight swaddling." All eyes fell on me and the two-month old in my arms. Baby Dude was the Chosen One. Apparently everyone was in agreement that my boy was the only one who could play the baby king. This did not surprise me. They saw in him what I saw- a sweet, contented child destined for greatness. That and the fact that he was the only boy in the room.

I squirmed in my seat as all the moms smiled in my direction. This arrangement made me uncomfortable. It felt very stage-momish, like one day I'm offering him up in the baby Jesus gig and the next I'm driving him to L.A. for a Pamper's commercial. Or like an inferiority complex waiting to happen. Would he always feel like I was comparing him to the messiah he once played? Would he become one of those obsessive kids who rewrote his homework over and over again until it was perfect and all the while ranted, "I'LL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!"? Not to mention the concerns I had about Lil' Miss, only a two-year-old at the time. She was still new to big sisterhood and was having enough trouble just accepting the fact that we were actually going to keep Baby Dude, that we would NOT be returning him to the Rent-a-Baby center after all. The competition for attention was already fierce. Now cute little Mr. Perfecto has to be the SAVIOR OF THE WORLD? Couldn't he settle for best thumb sucker or loudest crier? In the end, I consented, but not without hesitation.

The next week I arrived a bit early and met the costumed teachers in the classroom where the Nativity would be performed. The plan was that I'd hang out behind the manger set with Baby Dude in my arms and pass him through the window to "Mary" when she arrived on the scene. It seemed like a no-brainer until the kids arrived and I discovered that Lil' Miss was sitting in the front row, dead center, just a few feet away from where I was crouched down holding Baby Dude. I held my breath, hoping and praying she would not see me. I watched as she surveyed the stage scene, examining every detail like a city building inspector. It was only a matter of time now.

Sure enough, a few moments later, she caught a glimpse of me through the window. You could actually see her thinking, "What the... ? Is that my... ?" Then she got up off her little chair and leaned forward, even squinted her eyes a bit to get a closer look. All I could do was sit there perfectly still and try to pretend that I didn't see her. But it was too late. We were in an undeniable staredown. I could see the brow furrowing, the eyes welling and the lip quivering. I panicked. That was my baby girl on the verge. So, I sheepishly smiled and waved back.

That move was stupidity at its finest. It just confirmed for her that she was only a few feet and a cardboard wall away from the loving arms of her mama. The floodgates opened and Lil' Miss started to cry. Actually, she was laughing and crying at the same time. It was so sad that I almost joined in. I could hear a nearby teacher consoling her, "It's okay, honey! It's okay." That poor thing, all red-faced and sniffling, was trying to get her act together but every time she looked in my direction a new wave of weeping would crash over her.

She finally calmed down just as the play began, but every time a new character came onto the scene, she started in again with the wailing and nervous laughing. When the beautiful white angel appeared, she reached her breaking point, blubbering all over again with tears streaming down her cheeks. The whole room was dead silent except for the heart-wrenching sobs of my daughter. And while all this was going on, my blessed son, full of grace and light, rested peacefully in the manger.

If the point of all this was to help us remember the story of Christmas, then mission accomplished. I'll never forget.