Better Grab the Smelling Salts

David’s mom got married this weekend.  To a firefighter.  Not that that has anything to do with the story, but I think it’s cool to have a firefighter in the family.  There are a bunch of police officers already on my side, a handful of lawyers and a teacher.  The firefighter is just like the last star in this little all-American family flag we’ve got going.  Now, all we need is a priest in the crew and we’re set.  For some reason, though, none of the single men are chomping at the proverbial bit to take on this role.  Something about the whole celibacy clause that throws a wrench in the works.

But back to the subject at hand, shall we?  David’s mom (congrats, guys!) got married this weekend, and she did so in laidback-casual, Hawaiian-themed style.  Our darling Saoirse was a flower girl, complete with flowered dress, lei (“I hafta wear a necklace?”) and sandals.

She loved every bit of it, from getting to walk down the “island” (she really was going with the theme, here), to running around the dance floor, to getting to drink water (I checked.  Just water) out of a margarita glass.  Did David love seeing her do all of this?  Well, sort of.  Actually, not so much.  See, all week long, Saoirse was so excited, and kept talking about wearing her ‘wedding dress:’  “When do we pick up my wedding dress, Mom?…Dad! Have you seen my wedding dress?  I can’t WAIT to wear my wedding dress!”

Every time she said it, David would turn pale and start getting what looked an awful lot like tremors.  I think the girls’ dating years are going to be rough on him.

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