I am locked in a small room designated for business people. I figure my blog is business, so here I am. Unfortunately, Josh and Abby followed me in here. They have done nothing but squabble and complain. Apparently, while I was dropping the goddess at the church in her flower girl finery, Josh insulted Abby in various ways, including calling her a “swashbuckler” and a “butt raper”. She was facedown on the bed, sobbing, when I returned. The real question is why did I return?
We are here because Chad, who used to work for Tim, is getting married. Tim is the world’s oldest living groomsman and the goddess is the flower girl. We came over yesterday for the rehearsal, which was 60 minutes of sheer hell. Since Josh and Abby were not in the wedding, they had to sit and watch. My children are not good at sitting and watching. Especially if it involves occupying the same space.
Josh was cackling gleefully over the fact that Tim was 20 years older than the bridesmaid he was escorting. When the minister announced the girl’s name was Jennifer, Josh turned and looked at Abby and I with huge, glowing eyes. “Did you hear that???” he asked very loudly, the sound echoing off the church pews. He then high-fived Abby over my head and said “ain’t that just the bee’s knees!!!!” Has anyone EVER heard a 14 year old use that expression? Do I need to worry that he has been abducted by aliens, his brain sucked out and replaced with Gomer Pyle’s????
After the rehearsal, I took the goddess outside to play on the church playground. When it was time to go, she took off at top speed, with me behind her shouting “DON”T RUN!!!” Alas, it was too late, and she skidded into a puddle and erased most of the skin off her knees. Much wailing commenced, especially when it became apparent blood was flowing.
Grimly, I loaded her into the car and we headed to the rehearsal dinner. The food took forever, the room was small, and made smaller with the presence of my three children. We sat, staring at our desserts longingly. It was a lovely strawberry shortcake in a plastic martini glass. The longer we sat, the mushier the shortcake got. Indeed, the whipped cream was liquefying the cake and the stem of the glass was filling up with the cream/cake mixture. I had a wild desire to detach the glass from the base and suck the cake out through the stem. Hey, you know what we say in Alabama: Thank God for Mississippi!! I figure it wouldn’t have been considered rude.
After dinner, the goddess got up, took three steps, and promptly tripped and bashed her knee again!! Blood was flowing copiously and the wailing was almost too much to bear. I carried her outside and calmed her down, but the damage had been done. She was now limping from the incredible, excruciating pain in her skinned knees. There will be no traisping down the aisle for her; it’ll be more of a nursing home shuffle.
Well, I have to go shower so I can go sit at the church for two hours with Josh the insulter and Abby the butt raper. At least the goddess is out of the equation, at least for the moment. I am just praying she can make it down the aisle without tripping and skinning her knees!