We had a wedding this weekend. Well, the kids did. They scored ring bearer and flower girl jobs in a lovely affair celebrating a beautiful young couple -- very much in love. We got to tag along because, after all, they can't drive.
It was one of the nicest weddings I can remember.
Part of it was the kids, and not just mine. There were oodles of kids in this wedding (the bride is a beloved preschool teacher -- in fact, she was ours), even tiny ones, babies! There were kids in bow ties and taffeta streaming down the aisles like a matinee of the Sound of Music. It was ripe for calamity. Surely, there would be a tantrum, a puking, a fight?
But you know what? It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Even the babies knew they were witnessing something special. They rolled up the aisle in a little red wagon -- two gorgeous babies smiling, dressed in their finery. They were in awe, as we all were, of the magical day that belonged to Rachel and Daniel.
Love won against spit-up and sibling rivalry. Love had brothers and sisters walking down the aisle hand in hand, six-year-old boys wearing bow ties without fussing, standing up straight in the sun for 45 minutes, listening to vows they just knew were special, they felt were special somehow.
I know this because I have never witnessed a six-year-old boy, a three-year-old girl and a seven-year-old anything stand for 45 minutes without fussing, without needing a snack, a show, a tickle. I know this miracle occured because love won.
And that was just the ceremony. Then there was dinner and cake and dancing and I sipped drinks with my children -- grown up drinks like Coca-Cola and 7-up -- and we danced together, all of us: Chris and Reese and Finn and I, way into the night. Dancing like fools we did, even Finn with his hands in the air like the smallest, whitest version of Michael Jackson there ever was.
It was magical.
When the groom and his mother danced together that night, a sweet mother-son dance, I danced with Finn, too. Holding my four-year old in my arms, watching that mother with her (former) baby, I could feel the time slipping away from this moment, even as I was in it.
"We'll dance like this one day at your wedding, Finn. Like that big boy and his mama," I said to him, promising.
"You are the best, Mama. The bestest. Bestest," He whispered sweetly into my ear. I buried my face into his neck, smelling of frosting and little boy. I want to bottle that smell and keep it on my nightstand for when he's in college and won't return my calls.
My lovely girl, my flower girl, in fairy wings danced like it was her job. She couldn't be stopped -- a fairy glowing long into the night. I watched her be twirled by her father underneath the twinkly lights, giggling, and dared to wonder how long it will be until we are doing this for her -- until we are saying goodbye to our little family of four. And saying hello to the next step of us.
Really, it was the best night.
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