I'm a Mormon, Yes I am...

One of the days when motherhood is especially rewarding is seeing your own child be baptized. They seem both so grown up and yet still so little and impressionable. And perfect. Having been through the rigamarole of a Stake Baptism countless times, I already knew what to expect. It was going to be the ideal day for him (and me).

The newest member. Check out that grin.

The Brooks side, after the end of the festivities. (Can we call it that, after a baptism?) What you don't see here is the rest of the baptism story.

How we sat through more than an hour in the sweltering chapel of talks, spotlights, and singing until it was our ward's turn go to the font.

How I left the food in the oven thinking we would be back 45 minutes later, not 2 hours later (um, blackened enchiladas, anyone?).

How after Caleb's baptism we changed rooms for the confirmation and in all the chaos didn't even notice Kara was not in the room with us until the door opened 15 (or 20?) minutes later with a horrified, sobbing Kara unable to speak. Sorry about the run-on there. I was thinking I "had need" to be baptized again after that happened.

How Nathan reassured every one during the program that yes, he is most definately, positively two years old. No further explanation needed there.

But luckily, Caleb was none the wiser to the petty motherly problems and concerns. His reply to the bishop, with a wide one-tooth-missing grin, "It was GOOD!"

( And look who can finally blow a bubble!)