Here are some more pictures of our bonnie lads. In our dear friends' wedding this past December. Remember all those kilts we made? This was the occasion: the marriage of our dearest, and one of my longest-standing friends, Pat. Or Uncle Otter, or Patter, as the kids call him. Paul was the best man and they entrusted our bairns with the rings.
But losh, man! Dinna they leuk fine?
Ezra looked as if he were'nt going to venture up the aisle. Gibbie had set himself to it. But at the last minute, a tear still tracking down his cheek, I put a ring in Ezra's little fist and his other hand in Gibbie's, and they walked right up, with all those eyes on them! Ezra had a whole outfit, but he has some sort of internal promise he's made never to wear a vest, and enough tears were shed over putting on the kilt, I was happy just that he was wearing the kilt, socks, shoes, and any shirt. Angela, the lovely bride, understandably requested that he wear a shirt, if possible. If you look closely in the picture of Ezra and Gibbie starting down the aisle, you can see the glimmer of the ring in his hand. After the ceremony, Ezra offered no objections to any of his clothing, and played like a broonie.
(Gibbie's cooperation and spirited enthusiasm is fitting, as he is named after Sir Gilbert Galbraith, the sometime broonie, sometime hero of a highland romance writ by our beloved George MacDonald, one of the very first books my beloved and I read together! A good man will go to the trouble of learning to speak a brogue to read a book with the woman he loves!)
Gibbie, who was sooo happy about his outfit and his role in the day, "I just can't wait for the wedding, Mama. I'm so exciting for it!" just "danced his heart out" for the rest of the night.