Godly Gnonna Aurora

Seeing the camels and their babies raised many questions for us in light of the approaching birth of Mary. We felt unprepared, as it hadn't exactly been a textbook gestation. Lexie had avoided all the soft cheeses (reluctantly), but we weren't aware of a consensus on mole sausages and hound schnitzel.

We had some reservations about handing Mary over to the camel traders in Dubai, who might intend to cross-breed her with a camel or a supercar. She would also receive many unsolicited 24-word letters written on papyrus regarding the potential deeds of a seedy-looking old man.

An immaculate conception can cause anxiety for the parents, and the cracks were beginning to show. These were mostly because we'd worn the same swimwear every day for several weeks, and the elastic wasn't in tip-top condition to start with.

Concerns were first raised about Lexie's mental capacity when she claimed that the Italians were making up poems about Mary, and gathering en masse to chant them. One of the poems made reference to Mary having intimate relations with a woman named Grace. It went on to suggest that Mary was the mother of her own father, and was some kind of cannibal vampire who ate her own son and father, and Grace, and drank their blood.

Preposterous and slanderous stuff indeed, that.

Vomiting is a respected pastime in this region, almost an art form, and Lexie's morning sickness always drew warm accolades from the locals. We became patrons of this art by carving and installing a beautiful statue of a vomiting Mary in the public gardens. We had plans to do a teenage friend holding her veil.

Consequently, bile is quite a popular beverage and readily available in a range of colours at cafes, bars and fountains in the town square. Lexie developed cravings for it (frizzante, chilled); further evidence of her fragile state of mind. It was definitely a step up from urine, in the digestive tract that is.

Figuring that the crossing would never be completed without a functioning leader, we sought to hire a Gestation Nonna (a Gnonna) for Mary. Leo wrote some ads in the local hieroglyphic lingo, and also posted them on socmed. We set up an interview room in a tower and placed a statue of Hans Moleman out the front to ward off evil.

Applicants had to meet certain criteria. They must possess:
– the ability to read, evident by having read the ad and showing up
– physical fitness, evident by having climbed the tower
– compassion for the elderly wasps (Vespas Piaggius)
– no knowledge of any nasty poems about Mary
– the ability to produce bile upon request, artistically.

We set up a bucket on a rope for the applicants to vomit in.

Before long a vast swarm of elderly wasps (Vespas Piaggius) descended on the town square, transporting hopeful Gnonnas. Parking was at a premium. Mild gesticulation was required.

We sat in our ivory tower awaiting the first applicant. Things didn't start well. The first applicant felt the immaculate presence of Mary so acutely that she kicked the bucket – as in, died of shock on the spot; she didn't actually kick the vomit bucket. Figure of speech.

The next applicant did kick the vomit bucket, and spilt the bile. Fail.

Things continued badly. An elderly applicant perished climbing the stairs, and an exiting failure tripped over the body and plunged to his death. Interviews were cancelled from that point on, and we descended from the ivory tower in despair.

Then suddenly, there she was – striding confidently to the front of the queue, a metaphor of the modern supplanting the ancient – our Gnonna, and Leo's wife, Aurora. She had been following us on socmed and had run away from Positano to find us. Realising that we had suddenly gained a daughter, we immediately offered her the job, and asked if she'd ever wanted to visit Dubai, where many women wear black because death metal is very popular.

Archie earned a whack on the bum for making kissy-kissy noises at Leo and calling his wife Godly G-Nonna.