So. The words just aren't flowing lately, and I have my finger in too many pies. There is so much that I want to do, so little just-me time, and my want-to-dos have absolutely nothing to do with my have-to-dos.
I do, however, have this: My sister is getting married this spring.
She is having a small wedding with just a few invitees and no bridesmaids or groomsmen, but she has asked if Natalie might hold her bridal bouquet during the ceremony.
I figure that Natalie might be down with that, but I check with her, just to make sure.
"Hey, Natalie."
"Yes?" she asks, looking up from the letters that she is writing in her marble composition book.
"Aunt Bobbie asked if you might want to hold her flowers during her wedding."
Natalie gasps, clutches her hands to her chest, and gushes, "I would love to do that!"
"Oh, goody gumdrops!" Somehow, "goody gumdrops" has become part of my lexicon, which is awkward when a doctor says that she received my copay in the mail and I reply, "Oh, goody gumdrops!" with a little skip-hop.
"How would you hold her flowers?" I need to make sure that Natalie won't pluck the petals one by one while Bobbie says her I dos. Talk about awkward.
Natalie strikes a Statue of Liberty pose and says, "I would hold them very, very carefully so that I could put them in Aunt Bobbie's hair when she is done being married."
The good: No plucking involved. The not-so-good, but not-that-bad: There is still time to polish her stance. I'll let Aunt Bobbie field the whole "flowers in the hair" bit.
That evening, I tell Connor that Bobbie has asked if he might consider carrying one of the wedding rings down the aisle. He agrees, and then Natalie announces, "And Connor! Aunt Bobbie wants me to hold her flowers!"
"Oo," he says, "So, you're a flowergirl."
"Well, first I'll be Aunt Bobbie's flowergirl, and then, when I grow up, I'll be a cowgirl."
giddyup and all that
ride 'em, cowgirl
yippee-ki-yay
flower power
