I'll write more about the wondrous occasion later when I have scrounged up enough photos from Facebook & friends. So ... Ashley ... send me yours.
|Isn't Laura radiant? I love her so.|
If I'm not going to post about the wedding today, then what story will I be sharing from the weekend? Read on.
Apparently I don't learn when I read stories from a very good mom. Maybe now you see where this is going.
We arrived into Charlotte on Friday afternoon so I could partake in some bridesmaid pampering. Our hotel was kindly booked by my brother (thanks, Peter!), and we went there after my nails had been cured of their unsightliness. I had a short bit of time to iron our clothes for the rehearsal dinner so Chris and Ryan took a bath so Ryan wouldn't attempt to conquer Mount Ironing Board like he had already summited every piece of furniture in that room. Boy just isn't content on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later pruney bath wrinkles had taken the place of the clothing wrinkles so out came the babe. For some reason, I decided to get dressed first even though I normally dress Ryan first and then throw my clothes on in ten seconds or less (training for a mama field day of some sort, I guess). Ryan ran around in all his glory as he is known to do.
I had just taken off my leggings when I heard the door slam shut. Chris was over on the other side of the room getting dressed, but Ryan was not. I should have more adequately assessed the situation and let the underwear-clad Chris run after our fugitive. Instead, I dashed out into the hallway in my maternity shirt and underwear du jour that rhymes with the first word of the phrase, "Wrong choice, Mama." Apologies for the mental image.
Without thinking (obviously), I sprinted after that giggling boy with two pairs of jiggling cheeks bounding down the hallway. Fortunately, I can out stride him even though he evidently can outsmart me. I snagged his arm. Victory be mine!
Fork. With Ryan's pronunciation.
I scurried back to the door. Jolly Ryan's dimples were showing and so were mine, but on opposite cheeks. Since I hadn't tucked away a key card in my quick thinking, I banged on the door only to hear laughter on the other side! That husband of mine waited the appropriate amount of time for my curses from embarrassment to turn into good-natured giggles from the hilarity of the scene, and then intelligently opened the door just before those giggles morphed back into curses.
It turns out that our hotel door locked until the handle was turned from the inside which means that the door is the perfect accomplice for a restless toddler just like Grace's hotel door. Hotel builders must either not be parents, or they sit behind the hotel security cameras every day waiting for a chuckle.
So be warned, my friends. Doors can quickly turn on you, and your thinking might not be quick enough to save you from the cheeky situations that follow.
(As you can expect, no photos were taken of the incident. You're welcome).