I probably should tell you in detail about the colorful traditional costumes people wore on the International Mass procession this evening, that I put on my mother's wedding Kebaya to join in the crowd, about my burnt-red complexion when I announced from the pulpit that everyone could follow the five intercession prayers in English, about the weird accent that followed, that my voice suddenly dropped an octave low when I read the Indonesian part while looking back and forth to the congregation and to my cheat sheet, and that JEM looked fantabolous in the Panamanian Mola dress. Heheh.

But then, there was this undescribable Brazilian cuteness in the pew in front of me, all 20-something lbs of him, with luscious lashes, smart moving eyes and unmatched curiosity towards his surrounding. I first noticed his baby fingers played with his mother's locks of hair as he demanded his father of something. At one point, he switched to twirling the beads hanging from the costume of the Maxiacha(sp?) warrior who sit next to them, and later during the sign of the peace, he astutely refused to kiss a lady friend of his mother, but gave the gentleman sitting two pews behind a firm handshake. He succesfully matched Fr. D's blessings of the bread and wine in the middle of the Eucharist, but then towards the end, he silently imitated the most reverence kneeling and hands in prayer.

How's that for a faster ticking of a biological clock?

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.