Christening poem

Tragically, we can't be there to see the latest christening –                        
To hear the baby squealing as icewater from the font
Is splattered on her forehead in a sacramental glistening
When it's milk and burps and changing that she really seems to want –

In our absence please accept this somewhat tacky token,
A mutated southern reptile for the little poppet's pillow –
Less brittle than the real thing and not so quickly broken,
Here for darling Alice is a fuzzy armadillo.