Yesterday, amidst a flurry of frantic activity including missing socks and car keys, last-minute cleaning, a mix-up concerning Amaretto versus Amaretto creme, and the inevitable chaos that comes with having a large Italian family in a small house, we managed to Baptize the boy. Despite some initial misgivings on the part of your truly, we opted for the "Chef Boyardee" look - complete with mini chef hat:

I like it. It works, and Jack was pretty content wearing a funny hat for a few hours.

Both the Missus and I were concerned about what his temperament for the day would be - the past few days he's been waking up every 3 hours at night screaming to be fed, and during the day he's been refusing to nap and can go 6-7 hours perfectly content to not eat. And God Bless him, up until about 5 minutes before we were called up to perform the actual ceremony he was the proverbial Little Angel, all eyes and cooing. Here is the scene a few moments later:

I can only assume that, at the last minute he was having some second thought about "doing this whole Christian thing." However, the actual reason for his screams are far more mundane:

Bottle time, baby. When they want to eat, they want to eat NOW!

After that he was great, the whole family came back to the house for some drinks and snacks before heading out to the party proper at our favorite little restaurant. All in all a great day, and seeing so many people I call "family" gathered to celebrate with us caused a lump to rise in my throat, only to move South and settle as a warm glow in my heart.