He'll be a vision in white.

I had to buy Brae's first pair of tighty whitey's over the weekend. [EDIT: I had to buy an entire PACK of tighty whitey's over the weekend, as evidenced by this photograph because it is impossible to buy one pair of white underwear. Not only is it impossible to buy one pair of stark white size 4 underwear, it is also impossible to buy a SMALL pack of stark white size 4 underwear. I digress.]


And yes, I do have better things to do with my time than arrange an entire pack of toddler briefs on the floor, photograph them and then upload it to my computer, but at the time I could think of few.

Well.

I've spent the better part of the last month fretting over my friend's wedding, not for the fact that she is plunging herself off of the proverbial cliff of freedom into this bonded state of matrimony, but rather for the role my incredibly loud, cantankerous and seemingly bi-polar pre-schooler has been asked to play in it.

I'll give you a hint: It involves a pillow and me crouched at the end of an aisle with a cookie dangling from my fingertips.

When she first asked if Brae would like to be in her wedding I was thrilled. My little man IN A TUX! How fantastic would that be?! The wedding march was ringing in my ears as I pictured Brae sauntering down the aisle, clutching the delicate satin pillow to his chest, wide smile erupting on his face.......and then suddenly....his face contorts as he realises he is UNCOMFORTABLE in this miniature monkey suit, he RIPS off his jacked ringing it around his head and releases it just in time to hit grandma (who inconveniently chose an aisle seat) in the face. I see him popping off his shoes and running down the aisle screaming about how, 'Thissss iss takkking tooooooooo looooong'. He reaches the end of the aisle, drops his pants and moons the attendants while cackling and provoking someone to try and 'pinch the hiney'.
I see me. Standing. Staring ahead in disbelief and I realize,

This is going to be bad.

What was I thinking agreeing to this? Yes, YES, he is adorable and what bride wouldn't want my little kewpie doll adorning every wedding picture and break dancing at her reception?

But this is a four year old. Boy. Who likes very much to make fart jokes and educate his fans on the dual meaning of the word 'crap'. [ASIDE: I do not condone this, thank you.]

Yet I relented. And once more the rational side of my brain was beat down by the less realistic side who gushes over miniature bow ties and cumberbuns.

So, this Saturday is the big day. First the tux came, but the brown vest that I had ordered with it was the size of my thumb and clearly did not fit. So I had to request a new one. Then the shoes, oh, THE SHOES. The damn shoes. You know, I'm not even going to go into the shoes right now, but lets just say that my levels of compromise have never been so high.....and somebody is getting a Porsche 911 on their 16th birthday.

And now finally, after weeks of trying on and taking off, practicing a slower gait, purchasing white underwear and discussions on when it is appropriate to drop your drawers, we are ready.

Well, as ready as we'll ever be.