Or, perhaps it could read, Things to be aware of if there is a wedding in the family.

Particularly if it involves someone’s sweet daughter.

I won’t go so far as to say it all went smoothly and with a fairytale ending, even if there was a frog involved.  (Isn’t there some fairytale that has a frog in it?)

But it did go considerably well, all things considered.

If, however, your sweet daughter decides to get married, allow me to share a few observations.

Your job, if you are the hubby, or crusty ole dad, is simple. 

Be completely agreeable to everything.

Plan on being totally on board for everything that is required from you.

Plan on being totally off board for anything remotely not required of you.  They will ask for your opinion of this want it, although when they do, remember all they really want is you to tell them their opinion is exactly what yours is.

Being on board means you cheerfully make a complete turnaround in the middle of the road, even if you are only a few hundred feet away from the place you just chauffeured your beloveds to.

Being on board means you willingly chug down fast food for whole days at a time, even though you had barbeque on your mind while doing the aforesaid chauffeuring.

Being off board means you sit idly, sometimes for whole hours, while your lady folk peruse material stores.

And even when they make it back to the vehicle, and perhaps your patience has thinned a bit, possibly because you suspicion that the main focus of buying dry goods for the wedding was lost somewhere along the way and the visit turned out to be, instead, one of interest in anything and everything, you say nothing.

Oh, and always say whatever they bought looks beautiful on them.

But you can’t say that without taking an interested look at whatever it is that they bought.

Be prepared to be inundated with shoes.

Because, you see, just because one pair looks just right doesn’t mean it will fit just right, and just because you know this brand fits just right doesn’t mean it will match just right.  So, several pairs need to be purchased, so the just right can be found.  This process stretches the wedding blessings long past the wedding itself as you cheerfully take many boxes of shoes to the place where they are shipped back to the vendor from whom they were purchased.

You will endure several crying jags.  In fact, after the first one, reassure your womenfolk that this probably won’t be the last one.  Say this in a tone that lends confidence you will be there for every jag that comes along, even if you aren’t sure at all what the jag is about.

Be prepared for several instances where the material that matched and they were so settled on suddenly takes on a different hue and the tone of it goes totally against their own coloring. 

A day will happen when you feel the sweet daughter’s allegiance shift subtly away from the blind trust and confidence she has had in you.  You’ll feel hollow on those days, but it’s okay.  Because you know life is this way, and, in a way, you are happy to let her go, just because she is so happy.

On such a day, it might not be all wrong to find a frog that is hopping along gaily.

That is, if your sweet daughter has a deathly fear of frogs.  (You may have to alter this to whatever criteria your daughter offers in this area.)

Now let’s be clear.  We aren’t doing this to be mean. 

Not at all.

We are doing it for a couple of reasons, although I’m not really sure what they are.

But let’s just imagine the sweet daughter is reclining in the recliner couch.  On one side is a straight up wall.  On the other side, sits her mother, who is also reclining, and, who it just so happens, has brough her daughter up and trained her thoroughly in the fear of frogs.

And both are screening.  (As in, looking at more pairs of shoes on their phones.) 

And both don’t see you have this happy frog in your hand, hiding behind the back of another couch. 

And both don’t see the frog until it lands square in the belly of the sweet daughter.

Two screams will pierce the dark night.

And two bodies will tremble violently.

Because what else can they do?  If the daughter sits up, there’s no telling where the frog will go.

And there is no telling if the frog will take it upon itself to jump somewhere, anywhere, maybe landing on Mama J. 

And so, the screams will pierce the dark night again, and wails of agony and desperation will be cast towards the crusty ole man with frantic entreaties that he remove the frog.

At which point it would be mean not to. 

There.  Maybe that is one reason for throwing the frog.  Just to show them you aren’t mean after all.

And then, a couple of evenings later, a banana peel tossed in the general direction of the two fair maidens who are occupying the two same seats does almost as well as a live frog. 

Because their overworked and overwrought nerves make it appear to be another frog to them.

And then, last of all, if the sweet daughter tells you one late evening, after she has spent hours with her beloved and you are already in bed, that her stool seems to have ran through and there seems to be a lot of water on her bathroom floor, it will behoove you to instantly jump out of bed and become industrious in the water removal business, even though the wedding is only a few scant hours away.

Maybe you knew about this problem a few days previous, and then again maybe not. 

But at this point, maybe all that matters is that you will survive even this, and in the end, you will survive the wedding as well.

Written in my new office on the corner of Main and 56.