We were discussing weddings the other day with our children when I noticed Lydia slowly curling up into a ball with her face contorted into a look of both pain and disgust.
“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” I asked. This is a question that is asked often in our house and it is rarely answered with anything except nonsense.
“I don’t want to EVER go to a wedding,” she said. “Because then you have to watch people kiss.”
I nodded. Yes, this made sense. “I understand. Watching people kiss is scary and weird.” I sat down and pondered some solutions. “Well, you know, I think we could probably find a compromise if you would like. I could maybe talk to the bride and groom and get them to ask the minister to give us some sort of warning before he allowed them to kiss each other.”
She cocked her head to the side as if she were listening but needed more information before she would agree.
“Like, he could say, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.’ and that will be our signal to all cover our eyes and look away.”
She looked at the ceiling for a moment and then agreed with a quick bob of her head. “Okay. As long as they do that, I would be willing to go to a wedding.”
Later that evening we were driving home through our neighborhood when we passed a young boy walking a dog with a young girl. I saw Lydia lean towards the window to watch them as we passed.
“Go around the block!” she shouted as I pulled into our driveway.
“What? No. Why? We don’t even live on a block. That makes no sense.”
“No, just drive around again and go past that boy and girl.”
“Why?” I asked, shutting the car off.
She was very agitated. “Because I think they are going to kiss! Didn’t you see them? I know it! They are going to kiss.”
“Oh..” I turned in my seat. “I understand now. You want me to go back and make sure they make an announcement or something first so that we know to cover our eyes and look away?”
She rolled her eyes at me and frowned, glancing back down the street to the strolling couple with the dog. She sighed wistfully one last time and then flung herself out of the car and ran sock-footed towards the front door.
I sighed as well, climbing into the back seat to retrieve her pink sneakers, and then stepping after her up the walkway, running a hand over my tired eyes and trying to shake the feeling like I was slowly following her up the very long aisle of a church.