I love weddings. Well, there is the cake, obviously. And a good excuse to get dressed up and indulge in an excess of family photographs.
But a good thing gets a bazillion times better when my very own kids get to participate in the wedding party. There just isn't any greater parenting reward then to see them walking down the aisle, all spit-shined, tuckedin, fluffed up, triple combed and acting their Sunday best. I puff up with each overheard whisper of "aren't they adorable" and "they are just precious" and frankly, I couldn't agree more. Strangers ask to photograph them or be photographed with them, and I begin to think about renting them out professionally. Further, the enormity of the occasion forces them to become still and quiet. Still AND quiet, I said! (Well, technically, Lucie wasn't completely silent. She did walk down the bridesmaid line-up asking each one the name of their favorite princess.) I am so so proud.
Don't forget the dancing! The Wagner dance team can clear a dance floor! We bring the sprinkler, the lawn mower, the worm, a booty shake, and even raise the roof on occasion. Lucie attached herself to a 5-year-old and wouldn't let him go, until she discovered that he couldn't swim. "Oh well," she said. "I still love him." (Only group dating for that one.)
The longer I am married, the more meaningful the ceremony becomes. I listen to the promises that are being made, and think to myself, "they have no idea." And neither did I. But what luck that I made those promises, and that Rob was willing to make them to me. Two of us walked down that aisle 18 years ago, and now there are five. God is good.