The big night

The wedding, the reason we all traveled to New York in the first place, was a beautiful affair.

Brian and Kara went out of their way to make their guests comfortable. There was the cocktail hour, live music, a fabulous DJ, a bounce house, potted orchids for the centerpieces (I got to bring one home!), movies for the kids, a cotton candy machine, and dancing, dancing, and more dancing.

While the whole event was a delightful experience, the highlight of the night (for me) was Miss Becca Boo. We have never gone to a wedding of this magnitude (ie, multiple forks, wine glasses, loud music and dancing, and servers snaking through the crowd bearing platters of carrot risotto balls and skewered lumps of mozzarella, tomato and onion), and to my surprise, she was in her element.

Even before we left the house, she was starting to act the part, pretending to demurely smoke a lollipop while she waited for the rest of us to finish dressing.

At the cocktail hour, she was thrilled with the Shirley Temples.

At the dinner, she sampled my wine and champagne (and then disdainfully screwed up her nose, thankfully), sighed happily over the salad of greens, blue cheese and walnuts, and snuggled up close to Uncle Brian when he visited our table.

When it came time to dance, she hit the floor and danced for two hours. She (and her cousins and everyone else) spun and boogied and whirled, pure joy lighting her face. Eventually she noticed that people were getting more drinks over at the bar, and after asking me for permission, she went over all by her lonesome, her little head barely reaching the top of the bar, and ordered herself another Shirley Temple. (I did limit her to only one cone of cotton candy, though.) At dessert time, she approached the chef in search of a cup of decaf coffee, and the chef went out of her way to fix Miss Becca Boo up with cream and two packets of sugar.

As Mr. Handsome and I watched her, we shook our heads in amazed disbelief. This flamboyant and poised child came from us? What an absolute hoot.

As for the rest of the children: Yo-Yo and Sweetsie were more reserved, eschewing the dance floor and instead bouncing in the jump house and watching movies (Yo-Yo) and hanging out with us (Sweetsie). But the Baby Nickel had more fun than I thought he would. He gorged on goldfish, his gourmet food of choice,

simultaneously guzzled two Shirley Temples,

was my favorite dance partner (though he also sought out other partners when he got bored with me—his Aunt Rachel, baby cousin Elliot, and the whirling girl cousins), and finally—finally!—collapsed in a heap.

Other posts on Miss Becca Boo: The Smashed Finger and On Being A Late Reader.

About One Year Ago: Pink Jelly Shoes, Turtle Plants, and Fairy Rings.