Wine goggles

It's not a real wedding until someone does something even sillier than getting married. At today's wedding, that someone was Peter. It's always the same story with that kid and parties - if it's not a lampshade on the head, he's off fish-bowling the wine glasses. Someone should really take that boy's mom out and give her a good lashing.

Isabel and Götz walked down the aisle today. I didn't actually see this part, though, because our family name is Johnson, which is Latin for perpetually late.

Yes, Angie was still blow-drying her hair when we were supposed to be at the church. At one point, we (ha, ha) agreed that I should walk ahead with the kids. A sensible idea, if you forget that Peter and David walk slower than snails going backwards.

You would also need to ignore the weather - it was raining, which, as everyone knows, only further slows down snails going backwards, although I am not sure why.

Lastly, you would need to stretch the imagination and assume that once you reach the church, you could sit down without drawing massive amounts of attention to yourself. Oh, no. That is the point where Peter decided to announce our late arrival to everyone by shouting out very loudly 'I need to go pee-pee and maybe even a poo-poo'.

I am so glad that at some point during our awkward journey to adulthood we cease to announce our bowel movements to a room full of complete strangers; I just wish it would happen sooner. I also wish that churches didn't echo so much.

I quickly ducked out again, hopeful that Peter's untimely outburst did not constitute an objection to the bride and groom's vowels. We raced to a nearby ice-cream shop for Peter's nature call and somehow managed to slip back into the ceremony quietly, followed shortly by a fashionably late Angie. Her hair looked fabulous, though.

After the service, we walked ahead of the wedding procession to sneak a bite to eat since we did not have time for lunch. We had to hurry, since coffee and cake was to be served on a two-hour boat ride up the Neckar that was leaving soon.

Our pit stop was Pizza Hut, where we stood outside gobbling down a few slices of prime pepperoni. At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a woman in a wedding dress walking down the street towards us. A comic double-take followed. Oh shit.

I nudged Angie, who took one look, whipped back around, and said calmly 'grab as much of the food as you can and lets go'. I snatched up a few pizza bones and my drink, which dropped to the pavement.

You probably know by now that I love run-on sentences as much as I do giving advice, so if you are ever trying to escape an embarrassing confrontation with a Bride and Groom and their entire wedding entourage by racing away from them as they approach because you are afraid they might find you stuffing your face before going to eat cake, do not drop your drink directly in front of them since this will only draw attention to yourself.

We did not stop to see if we were noticed. I thought it would be much wiser to simply write about the whole ordeal later and see if anyone actually reads this shit. We made it to the boat with full bellies, greasy fingers, and one surviving drink. If you look closely, you can see the straw and lid from Angie's drink sitting in the stroller's cupholder.

After all that pizza and running, coffee and cake on a nice cruise hit the spot. The boys raced around the entire time completely convinced that they were pirates searching for treasure. For some strange reason, we have collected quite a few chestnuts recently, so the boys also took to chucking these overboard as 'canon balls'. In case you were wondering, no ducks were harmed during the making of this blog, although not for a lack of trying.

The reception was awesome. Food, atmosphere, and plenty of other kids for our boys to play with. Peter took my digital camera and began taking what turned out to be some pretty strange pictures. The floor tiles, an antique light, the waiter's foot. Then came around 200 pictures of an 18-year old girl wearing red boots that Peter called 'the red feet lady'.

You might call it affection, but I think she would probably describe it to the police as stalking. Angie can confirm that I like older women, but 18 and 4? Sorry, Peter, I just don't think it's going to work. Maybe you could try winning her over by fish-bowling a couple of wine glasses...
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Ladder Talk:
[David turned into a wedding crasher when he zonked out at the reception - no Ladder Talk]
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I went to the wedding and I found new friends. I really liked taking pictures of the red feet lady.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David go to sleep at the party.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with you Hippo Flip.