Last Sunday, we had Izzie B baptized in my childhood church back home in Pittsburgh. We were excited for her to become a member of the church, surrounded by friends and family. She wore the same baptismal gown that both me and my mom had worn before her, making her the third generation to wear it. Believe it or not, she was swimming in it at three and a half months old, when my mom and I both wore it at six weeks old and it fit.
She fell asleep on the way to the church and we had to wake her up when the ceremony began. She was cooing through the whole thing. She's our high maintenance baby and was a perfect angel, whereas Brady was our easy baby and screamed during his whole baptism.
She has had four baths since then and still smells of the oil that was placed on her head.
Her mouth is wide open, talking to everyone.
With her godparents (from left to right), Uncle Patrick, Aunt Leecie, and Aunt Dunny.
With Nana and Dubby.
With Pap and Lori.
A family picture. Brady was not very cooperative and all Izzie could do was look at him.
Brady was baptized in the same exact church by the same priest, exactly three years and one month earlier.
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