“Uh, Mommy?” Everything begins with ‘Uh, Mommy?’ these days. Definitely need to work on his pause breaks.
“Hmmm?” We’re at the mall, shopping for a suit for him and some pants for me. We’ve just selected his outfit—how unfair is it that a five-year-old can pick something off the rack and it looks awesome with nary a problem? I hate shopping.
“Uh, Mommy? Me ‘n’ Daddy have special jobs.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, we’re in Mr. Cody’s wedding.”
I just helped select his suit for this wedding, so I’m privy to the fact, but I feign surprise.
“You have jobs, huh?”
“Uh huh. My job is to walk up the aisle and hold the ring for Mr. Cody to give to Miss Amy.” He beams with pride.
I haven’t told him that the ring he carries will likely be fake since no one in their right mind would entrust an integral piece of the wedding ceremony to a flaky five-year-old who is just as more likely to strike a metal rocker pose during the proceedings as stand still.
“Well, that sounds like a very important job. What’s daddy going to do?”
“Daddy’s job is to walk with Mr. Cody and stand with him and make sure he doesn’t get lost or run away.”
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