Do not go gentle

Here we are at Jen and Jason's wedding rehearsal, where Lyla is one of three flower girls whose combined age is not quite four. Tomorrow an usher will pull the three of them down the aisle in a wagon. I think this is a highly intelligent plan that could not possibly go awry.

Unfortunately, the wagon had a conflict this afternoon and was absent from the rehearsal. It's okay. The actual wedding ceremony will be the perfect opportunity for Lyla to sit in a wagon for the very first time.

Jen and Jason's wedding coordinator is flamboyant and fastidious, sort of a Midwestern knockoff of Charlotte's friend Anthony on Sex and the City. Tomorrow when Lyla jumps out of the moving wagon and runs to me to loudly demand boogie wipes, I will have my camera ready in case his head explodes.

So anyway, after the rehearsal and before the groom's dinner, I drove Lyla to my parents' house. "Dada, shoe off," she said, and kicked it to the floor.

"You kicked your shoe off," I said idiotically.

"Dada, shoe on," she replied. "Shoe on, Dada. Dada, shoe on. Shoe on. SHOE ON. WAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Um, it's on the floor back there, kiddo. I can't help you. I need to, like, you know, drive the car and whatnot."

At this point she threw a shit-fit reminiscent of July's "Do you want yogurt?/Yeah!/Oops, we don't have any" debacle.


"DAAAAAADAAAAA SHOOOOE ON!"

She was very happy to be left at Grandma and Grandpa's house, and I was happy to leave her.


Of course, tomorrow she'll surprise us all by sitting nicely in the wagon, smiling for the cameras, and ignoring her shoes. But I hope not. Shit-fits make better stories.

Dear Lyla,

Do not go gentle into that good wagon.
Rage, rage against the usher as he's draggin'.

Love, Dada