So, back in my post-high school, pre-college, Birkenstock-wearing phase, I did daycare for a family in my hometown. They had a 3 month old and a 2 1/2 year old, and I pretty quickly fell in love with them. The one year I was going to take off before college turned into 2 1/2 when I finally forced myself to actually leave the babies and go to school. It was such a fun period in my life, the kids were so smart and cute and perfect (I'm not biased at all). Their parents were great role models, and they put up with me in all of my dorky awkwardness. Oh, and they didn't freak out about me loving their children more than was probably healthy. Well, today that 2 1/2 year old is almost 23 and she got married. Mom, Dad, the hubby, and I drove to Bozeman for the big event. She was sooo beautiful. She IS beautiful, and smart, and talented, and amazing (and yes, I'm still biased). I cried. A lot. Happy tears, though. I can't even write about it without getting a little misty, which is why this entry is so random and scattered. Let's just look at shoes, shall we?
The bride's shoes. She was kind enough to let me take a picture without acting like I was crazy. She may have been thinking it, but she didn't say it. Look how adorable these are!
I, on the other hand, wore heels. Because that's what I do. And because the bride is now something like 5'11 and her brother is 6'3. The wedding was outside, on a metal grated deck, hence the wedges. I can be practical...
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