“Tayo naaaa…sa Antipoloooo…”

Mom said, “We have to bring Luc to Antipolo to have him blessed by the priest.” I said, “But isn’t that just done for new cars?” Antipolo is a popular pilgrimage destination, and as such it teems with the faithful juggling candles molded in the shape of the Holy Family, cashew nuts and sticky rice cakes.
We stood outside, and Luc behaved himself. He stared at all the people and only sniffled once, when we brought him inside so Mom could stick his pudgy little hand in the angel washbasin. (In my mind I was shrieking “Germs!” but exposure does help build his immune system, and besides, it is holy water. I envisioned saintly bacteria with microscopic halos.)

I took communion while carrying Luc, so the lay minister could sketch the sign of the cross on his forehead.
(No, I was not struck down by lightning.) The little one is officially blessed and ready to go on the road. I will not hang a laminated picture of the Mother of Good Voyages with red cord and plastic fish from his stroller, even if he asks nicely.