Milo, perhaps sensing that the lion's share of maternal attention had been diverted, started groping his way up my body, whimpering and making hopeful puppy dog eyes.
"Uh-uh, you're not a baby," I reminded him. "I won't carry you, but I'll dance with you!" I offered him my hands, palms up.
He put his fingers in his ears, and slunk down, a murderous expression in his eyes.
"Isn't this great?" I yelled at his sister.
"It's really loud," she screamed, retreating to a bench with the gang from Riverdale High.
Clearly this was one of those Cinderella situations where midnight would come all to soon.
"I'm going to get some stuff out of the car," Greg mimed. "When I get back, we'll go to the Museum of Beekeeping."
I signaled my acceptance, telling myself that I should be grateful for the little taste I'd gotten. Like any good theater major, I know you're supposed to leave 'em wanting more. I should be glad we were taking this thing out on a high note. Besides, the wedding party seemed to be getting back into their traveling formation. No doubt they were expected at some sort of private reception. The band took point, as before, followed by the bride and groom, the remarkably still upright best man, and all of their guests.
"Goodbye!" I thought, as they disappeared up a steep, and I might add, wildly picturesque street. "Goodbye!" I thought, as they disappeared up a steep, and I might add, wildly picturesque street.
"I'll always remember you!"
But what was this? A shiny, ribbon-trimmed SUV was pulling up, disgorging yet another bride, and who should be strutting downhill to meet her but another gypsy band? Talk about serendipity!
"There's Daddy!" Inky called, grabbing my hand and pointing across the street.
"Okay, you win," I conceded, trying to make the moment last by walking backwards as slowly as I could.
"Where are we going now?" Milo asked, sagging a bit to the starboard. Clearly, a critical juncture as far as my immediate future was concerned. I took a deep breath and tore my eyes away from all those shiny horns.
"We are going," I said brightly, "To see what we can find out about bees."
©2007 Ayun Halliday and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Ayun Halliday is author of The Big Rumpus and No Touch Monkey! and the popular zine East Village Inky. She is a columnist for Bust and a frequent contributor to Babble. Visit AyunHalliday.com.
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