M2: Godfather

I am a Godparent.  Not by choice or anything.  I accepted under duress … and I was drunk at the time.  

True story.  

Four years ago, my dear friend Kiki called me one night while I was partying like a rock star in Tahoe.  Since Kiki never calls me – I immediately assumed something was amiss.  Turns out, I was right.  She opened with pleasantries, “How are you?  What are you doing?”  To which I responded, “I’m drinking and gambling and smoking in Lake Tahoe!  It’s awesome.”  

Silence.

After an odd 30-seconds of silence, she then said, “Okay – well, that notwithstanding, would you like to be the Godfather of my unborn child?” 

Silence on my end.   I accepted days later — but only after I realized I wasn’t going to be the kid’s legal guardian.  Whew.  Dodged a bullet on THAT one.  Of course, if I didn’t accept, I assumed God would smite me down for being a sodomite.) 

Three years later, my Godson loves me.  Why?  Because I’m urban and trendy and when it comes down to it – he knows he resembles me more than his 7″9′ father.   We have a lot in common.  He tends to throw temper tantrums only slightly more often than me.  He has an enormous appetite.  We are natural toe-headed blondes.  He’s in to clothes as much as I am.  (Note the onesie I sent for his christening …)

I never realized having a Godson could be so much fun.  Who knew?  But wait – it gets better … my friend Kiki named him Spencer Cameron.  Spencer Cameron??!!   How pretentious is that?  Yep … that’s my godson!

He has a few character flaws – which I’m sure he’ll outgrow.  For one, he’s always sticky.   Seriously.  He’s always attached at my hip … and that’s only because I can’t shake him.  And when we’re discussing politics – he tends to poo-poo my ideas.  No – honest to God – actual poo. 

 When he turns 18, I’m immediately whisking him off to Tahoe for a hedonistic weekend of drinking and gambling and smoking.  It’s only right.  Just don’t tell Kiki – I want her to think we’re taking tours of college campuses.