We went to a wedding at the weekend. It was very lovely and moving and special. It has also taken me three whole days to get over, in order to sum up the courage to write about it.

The words “wedding ceremony” and “toddlers” should rarely be used in the same sentence. This is something I came to learn after the weekend anyway. Unfortunately, prior to accepting the invitation to attend a beautiful religious ceremony for a lovely couple, I was blissfully unaware that toddlers don’t do wedding ceremonies. Not my toddler, anyway.

It started the morning of the wedding. Fluffing up my two year old’s favourite floral party number, I asked if she was excited. I should have noted the warning signs there and then.

“I NOT go wedding Mummy! It BORING!” replied my defiant tot. Glancing over at his child with a look of concern, Frog’s dad asked if she planned to be well-behaved during the one and a half hour ceremony. “NO!” She shouted, before confirming, “I do be stress my Daddy OUT!”

Fabulous.

As we drove to the ceremony, we charted up a war wedding plan between us. “You keep the emergency chocolate in your pocket,” I said, “And I’ll sit at the end of an aisle, so if we need to make a quick getaway I can do it swiftly.”

Feeling smug, I lugged my huge bag of Toddler Distraction Paraphenalia into the church, ignoring the ladies tottering in clutching delicate handbags and tiny lace purses. We were seated in the upper level of the church and, looking around, the potential horror of the impending situation started to dawn on me.

We were in a gallery-like setting, looking down upon more than 200 guests. There was no sharp exit to be made, with steep steps and a door at the other end of the building. The arching ceilings taunted us with the perfect acoustics to fully showcase a loud toddler tantrum.

Attempting to hide the lead weight in my stomach, I stood, holding my toddler, as the long-awaited bride made her appearance in lace and soft muslin, gliding down the aisle to the swells of strings and a rapturous congregation. I dabbed a tear and nodded approvingly at the other children, gazing longingly at the “princess” in white.

“IT FINISHED YET?!” Yelled my toddler, around two seconds after the music stopped. Scrabbling in my bag for the emergency chocolate, I hushed a loud “Shush” as my child announced to the congregation, from her high perch in the gallery, “I BORED. I GO HOME NOW!”

My panic eased as she settled into her chocolate and the business of vows and songs started. But, just five minutes later, the chocolate was gone. Cursing myself for not bringing more, I breathed a sigh of relief as another child, somewhere else in the church started screaming for “TOYS!”.

Lulled into a false sense of security, I sat back and smiled along with everyone else as we were asked if we knew of a lawful impediment to the matrimony. Enjoying the moment of drama, I sat with bated breath, looking around the church and acknowledging eye contact with the other mums as we internally mouthed a thank you to our children for remaining silent at that moment.

Until.

“TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR, HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU ARE!” Rang out from the pint-sized person beside me. Seizing the opportunity to perform in front of a crowd of 200, on a raised stage, my two year old had got to her feet on the pew and proceeded to wave her arms around in a new routine the likes of which Beyonce would be proud.

“UP ABOVE THE WORLD SO HIGH! LIKE A DIAMOND IN THE SKY!” As I tried to hush her, crimson at the hard stares emanating from the front of the church, I was met with, “I NOT BE QUIET MUMMY! I WANT TO SING SONGS!”

Needless to say we spent most of the rest of the ceremony at the back of the church, playing on the stairs hidden away from the main action.

I’m telling you, wedding ceremonies and toddlers don’t mix.

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Linking up to Wot So Funee over at Actually Mummy.