The whole family is there. My babushka, old, withered and regal, perched next to my baccy chewing grandfather. Aunts, uncles and cousins, parents and siblings, we are more numerous than I remember. In Sunday best, we know the baccate display is just a teaser. A Bacchanalean feast of Babylonian proportion is about to happen. A pair of Bacchantes, begin singing, over the sound of a Bach Cantata. The new baby is proudly carried in by his Godfather, my bachelor uncle. Resplendant in a pale blue Babygro, our newest addition has absolutely no idea that all this is for him.
99 words written for Trifecta: Week Ninety-Nine. The bold words are from the top part of the prompt: