A Mischievous Little Ring Bearer

My cousin Jesse and his beautiful bride Claire asked Peyton to be the ring bearer in their recent wedding. I was honored that they wanted to include him in their special day, but I immediately started worrying that he wouldn't fulfill his very important duty on the big day. He's 2, with a mind of his own, and a very strong-willed one at that. If he didn't want to cooperate, there was going to be no convincing him otherwise. My Aunt Dede assured me that it was ok if he didn't do it, and that I didn't need to worry about it. Whew!
As the big day approached, we took Peyton's measurements for his tuxedo, bought him some fancy black shoes (which I had to hide because he wanted to wear them all the time. He loves shoes - gets that from his Nanny!), got him a nice haircut, and even practiced walking up the aisle at our church after mass one Sunday. The practice went off without a hitch - Patrick took him to the back, explained to him what he needed to do, and I sat in the front. We practiced with the ring bearer's pillow from our wedding, and sure enough, he walked slowly up the aisle toward me smiling, delicately holding the pillow, and looked like he was a pro! As well as our little practice went, I figured we might not be so lucky on the actual wedding day.
On the morning of the wedding, we had about an hour's drive to Rayne, LA, after spending the night with the Gulottas in New Iberia. This had been carefully planned so that Peyton would take a nap on the way to the wedding. He slept the whole way there, and I was grateful that everything was going according to plan. The next part of the plan included eating lunch and getting dressed in Aunt Donna's cottage. Peyton insisted on only eating the grapes on his plate, and none of the cheese and crackers. But at least we convinced him to put the tuxedo on. Either we took his measurements completely wrong or he's grown a few inches in the last few weeks because the tuxedo pants didn't quite reach his ankles. We also put a pull-up on him because I didn't quite trust him enough to tell me when he needed to go potty and the last thing we needed was for him to pee in his tuxedo. Then we would have had a bottomless ring bearer.
We arrived at the church a few minutes early, long enough for Peyton to have a tantrum or two in the dressing room with the bride and bridesmaids. Oh, boy, I thought. This may not go well. I took my place at the front of the church and Patrick held him in the back. He kept telling Patrick that he wasn't going to do it and would throw himself on the floor crying. Meanwhile, I was holding my breath as the last bridesmaid walked up the aisle and Patrick placed Peyton into position next to the flower girl. She was older, understood reason a little better, and accepted our explanation and instruction to just walk down the aisle with or without him. Patrick told Peyton to go, and I finally started breathing as he took off running down the aisle. He ran towards me, although he held the pillow in both hands, but left the poor flower girl in his dust. This was nothing like we had practiced, but he got to me and said "I did it!" He was so proud. He then flopped on the floor in the middle of the aisle, so I leaned over and scooped him up so that the bride could make her entrance. It wasn't elegant, but he made it up the aisle.



Once the ceremony was over and it was time for pictures, I was hoping that Peyton would be a little cooperative and pose for a few. He is notorious for not wanting to have his picture taken. Seriously, what is the complex about? He's 2! As the bridal party stood in position, we carefully placed Peyton next to the flower girl and ran out of the frame for the photographer to get his shot. Unfortunately, Peyton was quick in wandering away or turning around so the photographer was having trouble getting the perfect picture. The best man offered to hold him for a quick shot, which Peyton protested, arms flailing and screaming. I'm sure the pictures came out great. We gave up after a couple of minutes, and tried to move on to the reception hall. On the short walk from the church to the reception hall, Peyton saw some tractors and ran off into a field. He gets distracted easily. Gawd, it was hot outside!
Once coaxed inside, he became fascinated with the candles on the tables and wanted to run around and blow all of them out. I let him blow out a few and then I cut him off. I know, I'm mean! Meanwhile, he spied some grapes on the food table and started grabbing them with his dirty hands until I made him stop. I'm not so sure the people that he cut in line appreciated his dirty little hands in their fruit. I thought that if I made him a plate of fruit he would stop grabbing it off of the table. But he apparently didn't want pineapple. Just grapes. He threw them back in the bowl. I retrieved what I could remember was his, but I'm sure some got away. Sorry about that, wedding guests. He pretty much spent the rest of the reception running around, touching things he shouldn't, and trying to take sips of other people's drinks. At one point, he took a sip of someone's wine, just as Patrick and I dove in to try to stop him. (Please don't judge me). When all was said and done, he was sleeping before we hit the interstate. It had been a long day! He sure was a mischievous little ring bearer. Its a good thing he's so darn cute!

Advances in Spelling...Well, Maybe Not

You may remember a post a few months back about Peyton's spelling abilities.
P-E-Y-T-O-N
Whats that spell?
Tobi!
So, we've continued to practice, and I was starting to think that I had him convinced that not all words spell Tobi. This was progress.
Tonight, as we played with his letters in the bathtub, he started placing letters in an order and calling them out:
P-O-O-I-U-T
He looked at me, and as serious as could be said, "That spells rocket!"
Now, just so we're on the same page, even though he didn't get the exact spelling of rocket correct, I still think my kid is a genius. He was clearly on his way to spelling it correctly.

Outta There!

There are some times in a little boy's life when he needs to sit and ponder the wonders of the world. Or, he just needs a little more time to get all of the poop out. With Peyton, we read books and look through Daddy's magazines, which are conveniently located next to the commode, in order to pass the time. His Pops taught him to stay "Outta There!" whenever he's watching a baseball game. This should be done with a flick of the thumb. Since we are raising him as a Tiger Fan, we've also tried to teach him to say "Geaux Tigers!". You'll see that Peyton gets a little confused between the two: