The Godfather
This weekend Panagiota and I served as proxy godparents to the nine-month old of a friend of Pegs'. I had never met the couple, or the kid for that matter, but I tagged along anyway and signed on the dotted line. Frankly, I'd never heard of a stand-in godfather before, and I'm not sure what the job entails. Maybe I should have asked a question or two beforehand. I mean, in the event that the real godparents can't attend the kid's first eucharist, does that mean that I have to go? Was I supposed to get him a bible or something? What if fifteen years from now he asks me about my position on contraception? Do I lie and say I agree with the Vatican? Worse yet, what if the baptism is void and I've doomed his soul to hell?
Wow, it sure is a good thing I don't believe in any of that stuff.
4 comments:
I am skeptical of people who can't show up for a christening being appropriate godparents.
Except that it costs mucho dinero to fly to Paris, especially when the dollar is so weak and hotels here are so expensive.
I did a little research, and apparently as a godfather I'm supposed to pet cats, mumble a lot and scare small children by putting orange wedges in my mouth and grimacing. Oh, and have people rubbed out.
Horses everywhere beware.
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