crooked house: Baby Jesus and Us

Look what I found in the comments. In response to Luke's suggestion that we call the new baby "Baby Jesus," Jennifer Niesslein said "Can you imagine the sibling rivalry between a child and his brother, the Baby Jesus? We love you the same! You're good at soccer and your brother can walk on water!"

I can imagine a number of scenarios, actually:

Steph, David, Luke, and Baby Jesus are huddled around the computer, reading the results of their 23andMe DNA kits.
Luke: What do my genes tell us?
Steph: Well, honey, it seems you've inherited Daddy's earwax and my inability to learn from mistakes.
David [his eyes bugging out]: Huh, this can't be right. It says here that Baby Jesus's Daddy is God.
Baby Jesus smiles beatifically.
Steph [grinning nervously]: Whoops. Hahaha. Guess I went a little overboard with the communion wine that one time we went to church.

Luke and Baby Jesus are in the living room, playing superheroes.
Luke: I'll be Spiderman, Baby Jesus. You be Batman.
Baby Jesus [smiling beatifically]: No. I'll be The Way, the Truth, and the Light.
Luke: Does that guy have any weapons? It's no fun if he doesn't have any weapons.

Steph, David, Luke, and Baby Jesus are sitting round the dining table.
Steph [beaming]: Baby Jesus helped Mommy make supper again.
Luke [slamming his fist on the table]: Oh no, not loaves and fishes again. Jesus, why can't we have Kraft dinner or hot dogs, like normal people.
Baby Jesus [smiling beatifically]: I suppose I could try that next time.
Luke [slamming his fist down harder and turning on his brother]: How many times do I have to tell you that when I say "Jesus" I'm not necessarily talking to you?
David [looking stern]: Luke, that's enough. [Then, looking down at his plate with distaste]: This is the fourth time this week we've had loaves and fishes.
Steph [looking nervous, whispering behind her hand to Baby Jesus]: Turn their milk into wine, would you honey? Quickly. But don't be too obvious about it.

Steph is lying in bed with a "migraine." She puts down her magazine when Baby Jesus, smiling beatifically, walks into the dimly lit bedroom and places his right hand on her forehead.
Baby Jesus: You are healed!
Steph: Uh. Thanks.
Baby Jesus: Can you set up the marble run for us? And after that, can we go to the park? And remember how yesterday you said you'd play hide-and-seek with us tomorrow?

Luke is trying to teach his little brother some playground taunts.
Luke: Okay, so I'll call you a name: you big poopyhead!
Baby Jesus [smiling beatifically]: So you say.
Luke [turning purple with frustation]: No, no, no! You're supposed to say, "I know you are but what am I?"
Baby Jesus: So you say.
Luke: Well then, how about "Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me?"
Baby Jesus [reflecting]: That one's not too bad.

Steph, David, Luke, and Baby Jesus are looking at the boys' memory boxes.
Steph: Aww, Luke. Look. Here is the little hat you wore home from the hospital. And here are your little handknitted booties. And here's the commemorative coin set your great-uncle William gave you, from the year of your birth. It's worth more than twenty-five dollars now!
Luke [suspiciously]: What's in Baby Jesus's box?
David [trying to sound offhand]: Oh, just a bunch of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Baby Jesus smiles beatifically. Steph surreptitiously tries to cover the pile of gold coins with Baby Jesus's old baby blanket. But it's too late.
Luke: Hey! No fair!
Baby Jesus [smugly]: It's easier for a rich man to go through the eye of a needle than to enter the kingdom of heaven.
Luke: Don't try to pull that one on me. Just yesterday you told me you WERE the kingdom of heaven or something.

Baby Jesus is lying on his back on the living room floor. Luke is straddling him. A long line of spit hangs from his mouth and dangles over Baby Jesus's forehead. Baby Jesus smiles beatifically.
Luke [slurps the spit back up]: Get angry, man! Get angry!
Baby Jesus: I forgive you.
Luke [exasperated]: How many times are you going to say that?
Baby Jesus [still smiling]: Seventy-seven. But after that, well, you just watch your back.