Every few months the boy goes through a religious phase. From what I understand, this happens in varying degrees to many people who were raised Catholic but have trouble believing it. Last night on our way to Safeway — which was undertaken in order to satisfy my craving for tater tots and ice cream, and no, I’m not pregnant –the boy decided that he would save my immortal soul by baptizing me himself. While we drink beer and float on the inflatable party island down the American River this weekend.
I want to get baptized more often.