Father Of The Bride

On Mother’s Day I had someone, probably Megan, try taking pictures of Abbie and I. I thought it was going good and we’d have a couple good shots until I looked at the camera and saw several that looked like this:
I had no idea they were back there.

Do Over:


And then the staged ones.
Literally. I said, “ok, now kiss my cheek…”

“…and now let’s look into each other’s eyes”
Dumb, I know, but there you have it.

Which reminds me…

After work last night Rick and Abbie and I went to the Sudden Valley Dance Barn to check it out as a wedding venue. Abbie had worked at the coffee stand, taken her nap, and then picked me up from work. As we stood at the front desk talking about dates and prices and deposits, I looked past Rick at Abbie in her sweats and pony tail, no make up and her glasses and had a total Steve Martin Father Of The Bride moment. I stared at her nodding at gal behind the counter and I swear, I’m not making this up, she was 10, no 8 years old. I didn’t get a lump in my throat or tear up, but I did chuckle and shake my head, and thought whoever wrote that movie got it so so right.

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