SIX
The Legend of Baby
“Goodnight kids.”
“Goodnight, Auntie Mary,” they chorus.
“Auntie,” calls Kristie. “Stay and tell us a story.”
“What kind of story do you want to hear?”
“Monsters and ghouls!” Luke and Clay quickly exclaim.
“No! No!” protest the girls. “We want fairy tales!”
“Well, only one story tonight because it’s late. If you can’t agree on the story, then I’m afraid . . .” I pretend to turn around to go back downstairs.
“Wait Auntie Mary!” shouts Nora. “Why don’t you tell us your favorite bedtime story?”
“You mean the one I wanted your grandma to tell me always when I was young?”
“Yes, that story. The girl with seven names and seven godparents.”
“Oh, but you’ve heard that so many times before.”
“But we want to hear it again.”
I am so pleased that my nieces and nephews find the story interesting and engaging. I remember how I had wanted my Mom to tell me the story every night. It wasn’t really every night because my mother only told me a bedtime story twice a month. With so many children and all the housework and other responsibilities she had when we were growing up, she did not have the luxury of time to tell a bedtime story to each one of us, unless we all gathered around and agreed on a story. I step forward and sit down in front of my audience. Every one sits up in anticipation. “Okay, okay. Then you go to sleep?”
“Yes Auntie.”
I get down on the floor, swivel into position from the hip joint, and draw my knees as close together as possible while maintaining a straight back. The kids call this lotus pose the Buddha position. I clear my throat and assume a serious attitude. “All right, here we go . . . .”
“Once upon a time there was a girl who became the envy of every child in the community because she received more gifts than any of them at Christmas time. Not because her godparents were wealthy, but because she had seven of them. What made this girl so special that she was blessed with seven godparents instead of the traditional two? I’ll tell you.
Before this girl was born, her family had spent three consecutive Christmases with sorrow. Prone to complications during pregnancy, her mother’s last three pregnancies ended tragically in miscarriages. Midway through her pregnancy with this baby, her mother felt the symptoms of yet losing another child. She and her husband and their three children prayed like they had never prayed before. The sympathetic community joined the family in a daily vigil, praying for a happy Christmas for the family.
Their prayers were answered. The fourth child in the family was born. It was a very happy occasion in the community that was celebrated with a sumptuous feast. Many friends and relatives wanted to be a godparent to the miracle child, which became a dilemma for the parents. But the issue was resolved in an unprecedented manner to the delight of the seven persons chosen for godparents who also felt privileged to name the child. But they could not decide on a specific name, so each one gave her a name.
Hence, the seven names: Milagros Concepcion Marria-Angelia Trinidad Perla Mahal Emerald. Whew!
But with all those names came the quandary of what nickname to call the baby, and you know how Filipinos love nicknames. The issue went unresolved for a long time. In the interim, everybody started calling her . . . ?”
The kids raise their fist toward the ceiling and cry in unison. “BABY!!!
“Yes! And the name stuck. Baby became the most popular kid in the neighborhood. But every Christmas, other children, including her brothers and sisters, were jealous of her because--?”
“She got more gifts at Christmas!”
“Yes, she did. But it made her unhappy because many of the envious children would not play with her anymore. One day, her mother said to her: ‘Child, it is better to give than to receive. And you, as our miracle child already got the best gift of all. So, I suggest that you share some of your blessings and give away some of your gifts to other children, especially to those who need it most at Christmas time.’ So what did Baby do?”
“She gave away most of her gifts to other children!”
“That’s right. And Baby lived happily every after. To this day, even though she’s already verrrry old to you -- 32 -- many still call her “Baby.”
I jump at them and start a tickling frenzy to which they always look forward at the end of the story. They scream and bury themselves inside their sleeping bags trying to avoid my fingers.
“And if she catches any one calling her Auntie Baby, what is she going to do to little people like you?”
Their heads come out of their covers like turtles. “You're going to eat them alive, Auntie Baby!” Quickly, they pull their covers over their heads again, laughing, squirming and screaming. Lisa, Malia and Clara come running up the stairs. “
“What’s going on here?”
“What’s all the commotion?
I stop tickling the kids.
“Just telling them a bedtime story,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Ahhh . . . the legend of your nickname Baby?” says Malia laughing.
‘Hey kids,” I call out, “what do I do when adults call me Baby again?”
“You don't give them Christmas gifts!”
“That’s right! And who gives the best Christmas gift every year?”
“You, Auntie Baby!”
The room erupts with laughter and cheers.
“Okay, okay,” says Lisa. “Everybody go to sleep. It’s almost midnight. You, too, Baby.”
I give Lisa a soft slap on the head. “No Christmas gift for you this year.”
Everyone says goodnight and the adults go back downstairs.
--o0o--
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