The groom should not be the one running errands

Twenty-five years ago today, my Dad got his keys locked in the car.

In the parking lot.

Of the grocery store.

He was at the grocery store buying the sherbet.

For the punch.

For their wedding reception.

Which would be in a few hours.

Because it was their WEDDING DAY, and the GROOM was out buying the sherbet for the punch, and got his keys locked in the car because his head was in the clouds about marrying my Mom.

Clearly his head is still in the clouds about being married to my Mom.

Some of my favorite memories about this day are so random, but this is what a wedding looks like in the eyes of a four-year-old in 1985 ...

I got to wear a pretty blue dress. Me and Jessica matched, of course.

{in a few years, Eva and Pinky will put them on and we will take a very sweet picture of cousins wearing their Momma's "wedding" dresses}

A kind lady in the church brought Mom her wedding veil to wear, to adorn her richly brown hair.

We had sweet little flower bouquets. I had a fit of shyness and hid my face behind the flowers a bit, while we walked Mom down the aisle. Jessica chewed on her flowers.

Dad's tears filled up his coke-bottle glasses and flowed out the sides.

Mom sang to Dad ... You are flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone ...

Jessica wouldn't let go of Dad's leg, so they got married with a three-year-old hanging on his pants leg. How appropriate.

They got pillowcases, towels, dishes ... I ate as many mints as I could stuff in my chipmunk cheeks ...

Twenty five years ago today, Daddy Woss became just Daddy. We were a family again.

Happy Anniversary to my precious parents.