Husband Material

Ryan

I'm convinced that every child ever has had at least one wedding. My first was at the age of three. I had a veil made of toilet paper and a bouquet of crayons. My brother and sister officiated. The groom was Ryan Cook. He was a Sunday School peer that Mia and I interchangeably had play dates with. He wore my fathers bow tie and I wore a white nightgown.

We both marched down the aisle, or rather the hallway in my house, our bare toddler feet padding on the thick carpet.

"Do you want to marry Ryan?" My brother asked me.

"Yes!" I giggled, brushing away the toilet paper that had fallen in front of my eyes.

"And do you want to marry Jo?" My brother asked Ryan.

"Eww no, she has cooties!" He squealed in reply.

"You may now kiss the bride!" My siblings exclaimed, pushing the two of us together. And then it happened: my first kiss. Albeit, I don't remember it at all. It was between two slobbery toddlers, so I'm sure there was a lot of slimy snot and sticky fingers involved. Also, as I've been told we both separated as quickly as possible. For our reception dinner, we had Kraft Dinner and Jello. And our honeymoon consisted of travelling to the bedroom that I shared with my sister to take an afternoon nap.

It was a memorable occasion that I would go on to boast as being my first kiss until grade five, when mean girl Callie Grausam told me that it didn't count.

Anyway, the week following the wedding we were all at Sunday School. I was the bigger, taller friend so Mia would climb up unto my lap and snuggle with me while our teacher told the bible story. When the teacher had closed the book, she went around the circle asking us all what we did during the week. We went around the circle clockwise. Ryan was to our left, so he went first.

"I got mawied," He started, and I began to giggle. I don't know if three year olds are capable of blushing, but I'm sure that I was. I was glowing with pride at my choice of husband, until he said his next words: "to Mia."

I stood up quickly, my action throwing Mia off my lap and sending her sprawling to the floor. She began crying, having bumped her head on the way down.

"Joanna! What's wrong?" The teacher exclaimed.

I promptly left the classroom, running up through the middle of the adult bible study, the skirt of my frilly pink dress swishing behind me. I crawled up into my mommy's lap, burrowing my face in her chest. I didn't emerge until it was time to go home. To this day, it has been the greatest betrayal and hurt I have known. My husband cheating on me with my best friend. And, she didn't even have the gall to tell me first!

Okay, so obviously I don't harbour grudges from when I was a three year old. I very quickly got over it. But that incident just proves the point. That I was always cast aside because there was a always a better option. And often, that option was Mia.