I hope you dance (but maybe not always like that)

June 29, 2011

This past weekend Owen and I attended the most lovely outdoor wedding.  The bride was exquisitely beautiful, and the weather was perfect.  Owen happened to be the ring bearer and two of his good friends were the flower girls.  Owen has long proclaimed his aversion to marriage.  He wants, for the time being, to “live with us” forever.  And even though many adorable, savvy, and smart little girls have proclaimed a preschool betrothal, he prefers “being a boy” to “being a big man”.  Watching him walk in with the groomsmen was heart warming, even if it was a gentle reminder that he won’t always want to live with mama and daddy, that someday another girl will be his “best” girl.  As scary as that sounds to him, it might be even harder for me.

And when it came time for the first dance, he couldn’t wait to get to the dance floor.  Since it was a “couples” dance and not many couples were taking the floor, I told him he could ask his flower girl friend, which he gallantly did (if somewhat awkwardly).  They proceeded to the dance floor in what looked to be an “Awww” moment in the making.  How adorable to see the flower girl and ring bearer innocently slow dancing with the bride and groom.  But of course, that isn’t what happened.  The flower girl knew what to do, and stood with her arms open waiting to dance.  My son, MY SON, fell prostrate to the dance floor and began to do a strange worm-like breakdance.  TO SLOW MUSIC.  What ensued is a little blurry, largely because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t see.

Nostalgia abated, we headed for the car.  The thoughtful bride made firefly jars for the kids, and on the walk we looked for twinkling takers for our little glass apartment.  Owen chatted about the good job he did and about how good the cupcakes were.  He told me he had a GREAT time at the wedding, and as I buckled him into his booster seat, he said, “If I ever get married, I am going to play only fast music.  And the people can have as many cupcakes as they like.” (Note–this was not a critique of the food supply, but of his mama, who only let him have 2 cupcakes).

So I propose a toast:

My dear son, may you always dance to your own rhythm.  And when (or if, if you prefer) you get married, may it be to a woman of equally independent spirit.  I am sure that first dance will be blurry for me that day, not with tears of laughter, but certainly tears of happiness.

Advertisement

---