As I’ve gotten older and started a family, I’ve realized there is a horror film out there that has existed all along, but has just now become apparent to me, and it is the ‘Friday the 13th’ of its kind. I’m speaking, of course, of the movie ‘Father of the Bride’. It’s a cute movie I’ve seen before, usually in 3 minute segments. You can watch a baseball game on another channel and flip to it in the commercials to see Steve Martin do something uncomfortable. The blue tuxedo scene is classic, as is his interaction with Franc, aka Martin Short. But now that I have two little girls, one approaching three, the other one and a half, that I see it in its true spectral light. It forces me to realize that someday, hopefully in the late 2040’s, that I’ll have to give these two little feisty, pudgy-cheeked little girls away. This scares me to death. I’m writing this down so I have it on record for the future, but I do get to spend a lot of time with my girls. I’ve taught Sydney to growl, and Brooklyn to count to 10 in Spanish. They both crawl all over me and beat me up on a regular basis. They both go crazy and run to the door when I come home from work (although Sydney hasn’t learned to hug yet so she either barrels into me or runs up to me then runs away.) But I’m sure when they go off to college or get married or whatever, I’ll still wonder if I didn’t spend enough time with them or read to them or just give them enough hugs. As much as this hits me now, I’m sure I’ll be an overwhelmed, quivering mass of humanity as Brooklyn and Sydney try to hold me up during the Father – Daughter dance at their weddings. I’d completely missed all this father-daughter stuff the first time I was ‘Father of the Bride’, and now its all I seem to see.
