Mary, sorry we’re late. Traffic was completely donkey-to-donkey. I told your father not to follow the same damn star everyone else was, but who listens to me?
Oh wow, there are lots of animals here. That doesn’t seem very sanitary. My rule was no pets in the house, and you and your siblings were no Messiahs, believe me.
What do you mean, “no room at the inn”? Did you even try the Bethlehem Marriott? Very nice place. I guess my genius son-in-law didn’t think to write ahead. I told you to marry that scribe. Oh—hello, Joseph. I didn’t see you there behind the ox. Wait, Joe, don’t go anywhere. Find a place for my Dolce and Galilee bags.
Now let me see my only Begotten Bubelah! Aw, my grandson is gorgeous. But he doesn’t look like the Son of God. Don’t get me wrong; he’s perfect. I guess I expected something else.
And what’s our Redeemer’s name? “Jesus”? Sounds like an exclamation. I guess “honor thy father and mother” means nothing to this generation. But I suppose an entirely new, odd name is also an interesting choice.