Beach bash

Two hours before the wedding, I started to wonder how good of an idea this was.
Parker and Allie were set to be the ring bearer and flower girl on the beach, and we were there for pictures. It seemed simple enough: Show up at the beach, take some pictures, and then wait around for a while until the wedding began.
Allie was decked out in a smart little white dress, while Parker would match the groomsmen — khakis and white button-down shirt. My wife tasked me with a simple mission: Keep them clean.
The wedding was to be a small affair. Our friend Missy, who had technically been the kids’ baby-sitter but had become part of the family, wanted the kids to be part of her wedding. The kids were ecstatic, and had been practicing for weeks prior to the day. My wife and I kept our fingers crossed that their extensive practice would translate into a few minutes of good behavior for the wedding. It got off to a rocky start.
When we arrived, the groom, his family and the groomsmen were there. The kids were thrilled to see Adam, and immediately figured, “Hey, let’s play!!!”
Adam was your typical groom — somewhat distracted a couple of hours before he gets married. I, for one, was the same way. In fact, at my wedding, the coordinator came to a room at the church we were getting married and scolded us for not being in the sanctuary on time. I countered that anyone who wanted us to be on time should not have put us in a room with a pool table.
I think Adam somewhat welcomed the distraction, because he let the kids drag him around the boardwalk and show him such things as the two dead fish they found.
After a few minutes, it was time for the groomsmen to take pictures. It was there we found a curious part of human nature: Most people have no regard for other people. When there are five guys all dressed alike and a photographer lining up to take their pictures, maybe – just maybe — this is a signature event in life, and they don’t want a fat, hairy guy in a Speedo in the background. This, apparently, does not occur to most fat, hairy guys in Speedos, who see nothing wrong with leisurely strolling into the picture, despite the fact that there is an entire beach in which he could roam.
Parker was in a few pictures, which was enough to keep him fairly occupied. Then came the downtime. Combine downtime and a beach and a 3-year-old, and you can pretty much guess what happened next.
First came the digging. Then came the sand kicking. Then came the rolling. Parker was quickly a sand-coated ringbearer, and thought this was far better than any other attire he could have. His mother, however, disagreed. And she made this clear by saying. “MICHAEL!!!!”
That was all she had to say. She can say, “MICHAEL!!!!” about 42 different ways, and each tone means a different thing. This one meant, “Get your son, get him out of the sand, or I will hold you accountable.”
I went to get Parker, who realized he had MILES of sand to play in. I know I am faster than my son. I also know that breaking into a dead sprint after him might draw some eyes, so I opted for that parent speed walk that you do, trying to convey your message that, if I do in fact have to run, it will be bad news.
Parker saw this as a challenge. The beach decided to lend an assistance and tripped him up. A brief struggle ensued with Parker proclaiming to everyone that he was going to PLAAAAAAYYYYYYY. I am fairly sure Castro heard his cries. I finally got him off the beach (where I found several folks had enjoyed the chase), and tried to get him settled. Allie, fortunately, is at the age where, when you dress her up nicely, she will sit quietly and make sure she doesn’t get dirty. I don’t think boys reach that age.
We made a couple more trips down to the beach, each time ending the same way. (Yes, I should have learned my lesson.) When the wedding approached, my wife and I strategized on how we would handle Parker’s inevitable collapse during the wedding. Shortly before the wedding began, Missy called Allie and Parker over to tell them what they would be doing. I don’t know what she said, but I can only guess that both kids sensed a bride on her wedding day was no one to trifle with. When game time arrived, they were golden. Parker stood at Adam’s side and resisted the urge to dig, kick, etc. I highly recommend you hire Missy out for pep talks to ringbearers prior to weddings.
The wedding itself was a beautiful affair, with the Gulf of Mexico serving as a picturesque backdrop to the beginning of a new life for a couple. I was pleased with the ways the kids performed, even if it was a little touch and go early on. Perhaps we were being a little overly concerned. I mean, you put a kid on a beach and he’s gonna dig, right? In the end, it all worked out, and years from now, they will flip through their wedding album, fondly reminiscing, when they pause and say, “Who’s the fat, hairy guy in the Speedo?”