My little son no longer answers to his given name. No, he is Frodo, the Ring-Bear. I did not say ring bearer for good reason. That is because he isn't ring-bearer, he is Ring-Bear. But he answers to Frodo, Lord of the Rings, Keeper of the Rings, and Ring-Bear.
Is that how you spell Frodo?
By the way, he is dashing in a Tux. I, on the other hand, was done by Friday about noon...with a good twenty-nine hours to go of "on."
Ever try to keep a three-year-old (just barely) in line, pottied, fed, entertained, smiling, hydrated, unrumpled, and not stabbed with the bouttonniere pin while you yourself also must smile, make nice, and not cry? I haven't really slept in three days. I lie down and wedding music pulsates through my mind. Worry cascades over me as I try to figure out how to be at the necessary places at the correct times with a well rested kiddo, all the equipment and look like I should be attending a wedding as well, even though the wedding is one hour and seven minutes from the place that I am staying which is two hours and forty-five minutes from my home.
But Frodo had the hots for the flower girl so he maintained his composure most of the time. Wheresoever she goest, he follows.
They were adorable.
And I don't really think 3-yr-olds get the hots, but he sure liked his "new friend." Too bad we may never see her again.
Capstone of my day: Frodo marches up the aisle, stands in the proper location, is pointed off stage to me at the appropriate time and he announces that he must potty. LOL! We made it back for the kiss, but not much else.
Finally home. I hope I can sleep tonight.
Precious little reading time this weekend. Read this to Hubby in the car. Neat follow up to her The Giver
that I read last month.
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