First Christmas

The toddler was baby Jesus her first Christmas. We had the newest baby at the time and the woman organizing the Nativity for our congregation's Christmas party thought it would be great to have a real baby instead of a doll. We were flattered and thought it was pretty exciting. What a great story to tell her about when she got older!

Everything went well the night of the Christmas party until our wee one decided she'd had enough and started to shriek (about 30 seconds into the scene). The married couple playing Mary and Joseph didn't know how to react. Mary, whose children were all in their late teens and early twenties, gingerly bounced the baby up and down. She got louder. Joseph looked grim. You could tell he was wishing he'd never agreed to do this.

Out in the crowd, I was getting pretty unhappy myself. I very much wanted to hold and comfort her. From her cry I could tell exactly what was wrong. She was mad. She wanted Mommy. Why had Mommy abandoned her to this strange person? I started edging closer to the Nativity scene, wondering if it was possible to get my baby back without making even more of a scene.

The people around me were starting to react, amused at this twist in the traditional picture. Off to the side our pianist was playing soft Christmas carols and hymns louder and louder, struggling to be heard over the screams. Joseph had retreated to ignoring the whole problem, staring stiffly into the crowd. Mary was still bouncing the baby, swaying from side to side. I was practically dancing in place, wanting my child and wondering if this woman had ever cuddled a baby.

I don't know where she got the doll from, but the woman in charge finally showed up with a substitution. She beckoned to Mary, who stood up and in a hunched crouch awkwardly tried to walk away from the tableau without being noticed.

I didn't bother with subtlety; I just walked up, grabbed my baby and took off before anyone could suggest any other terrible ideas.