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Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

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I want you to know that Keith Munley’s aunt saved your life.

Our office manager Amy, was getting married. I told Amy that you were a really bad choice to be her ringbearer. Sure you’d look all cat daddy smooth in your tux, but DUDE, you’re YOU.

And you’re only TWO.

I told her that could not guarantee any carrying of said rings nor lack of mid-aisle penis adjustment.

She wanted you anyway.

Soooooo … after charging down the lawn like you were running back a kickoff, you refused to go down the aisle. Then you got into a tug-of-war with the flower girl, who you LOVED until she tried to gently guide you along.

During the ceremony you beat a stuffed Domo against a tree so hard, I thought you were going to short circuit the lighting.

Then you chased peacocks and laughed and yelled while these people were trying to give their lives to each other in front of God and other dignitaries.

I was gol-dang frustrated.  

As I’m sure you know by now, I have been known to act a stereotype in restaurants, at Target and at your school. I will happily go where wise parents fear to tread. Meaning I will embarrass you/scare you/put your WHOLE HEAD IN MY MOUTH IN THE NAME OF OBEDIENCE. So normally I can get some act right, right quick.

But when you didn’t get snatched up for doing the humpty dance in front of the maids of honor? You knew that in front of this particular bunch of witnesses? Mommy was powerless. 

Whenever I got near you, talking through my teeth, you would smile and yell, “NOOOO.”

You had me. We both knew it. And I was pissed.

Which resulted in me looking much like Condolezza Rice during the Bush presidency.

Oh my fucking God, this little Texan is so goddamn embarrassing … can’t kill him because this crazy shit he’s doing is partly my fault. Also, too many cameras. Baaaallllls.

I was trying hard to be calm, because nobody wants me looking like I’m about to change into the Hulk in the middle of their wedding photos. But I was reaching a private frenzy. I was going to have to use my superpowers to heat your underpants to an uncomfortable temperature.

A woman (who I later found out was the groom’s aunt) reached over and touched my arm. She smiled at me and said, “He’s adorable. Therefore everything he does is adorable. Don’t worry. It’s okay.”

Her words gave me permission to just give the fuck up. I give. You win. Where is this bar I have heard so much about?

During the reception, you enlisted a flower girl to join the couple’s first dance by circling them like tiny break dancers. Then you jumped into a wrestling match between children THAT YOU DID NOT KNOW. 

But mostly, you ate all the food your dad put on your plate. You peacefully rolled your toy cars in a corner of the dining room. You hugged people. You were a doll.

The next wedding you’re in, I’m going to put a Benadryl blow dart in my purse and I swear ‘fore God and three more Doobie Brother-looking men, that if you do not behave, I will shoot you dead in the neck. I don’t care if you’re the groom.

But I hope that one day you will be able to be like Keith’s aunt. I hope that you can step over to a stranger, touch their arm and comfort them with a few quiet words. It is an amazing gift to have and to give.

All of the good photos in this post were taken by Melanie Grizzel from She-N-He Photography and Design.