Читать книгу The Yummy Mummy’s Family Handbook - Liz Fraser - Страница 19

I’ve been to a silly number of weddings in the last ten years, and they have all fallen into two categories: those that allow children, and those that don’t. There is rarely any in-between category, unless the bride and groom are prepared to fight it out with those relatives or friends whose kids have been singled out and banned from attending. ‘No, it’s not because they are evil, noisy, smelly little bastards, but because there isn’t enough room in the chapel’ will never work.

Having kids at a wedding can be lovely: it brings a special kind of ‘Ah, this is what it’s all about’ joy to the occasion, and there are always moments of mirth when a three-month-old burps loudly, or a toddler is heard asking why the bride’s mother is wearing such a disgusting hat. But it can also be a pain in the neck. Nobody wants the ‘I do’ they’ve been rehearsing for three months to be drowned out by screaming, their table decorations to be used as ammunition between rival cousins, or the dance floor to turn into a Wiggles concert.

Never dispute what’s on the invitation. If it says no kids, that’s it.

Never, ever ask if your child can be a bridesmaid, pageboy, flower girl thingy, etc. It’s unbelievably rude, and someone will only get hurt.

Take some sweets for the service that don’t come in noisy wrappers. Oh, and a small book, and an extra dummy if your baby uses them.

Sit by the aisle to facilitate a hasty exit. Near the front is fine, so they can see, but an aisle seat is essential.

Leave immediately if your children start to make noise.

Don’t get there too early. They will be bored before the bride arrives.

Don’t get wrecked at the reception. You still have to be able to look after your kids, even if Jane and Tom did just get hitched. Hic!

Try to find a hotel with a babysitting service near the reception. Then you can really let your hair down without worrying about them (much).

Agree who is taking the kids home before you get there. It is usually me, because I fall asleep at 10 p.m. and am happy to go to bed. My husband likes to be the last man propping up the bar at 3 a.m. More fun, yes, but he looks like shit the next day—hah!