Receptions are for the receptive

Between the wedding and reception we did all we could to keep the kids at bay. Took the elevator to the room and ran up and down the halls. Tag, you’re it, then me, and you again, hope to tire out. Up on shoulders in the air, swing down, and ride on backs.

“Uncle Russ is a bomb!” they shouted, as I pretended to explode. The Pacman machine near the pool was broken, so we waded in the water. Ordered pizza and scarfed it down, couldn’t wait for dinner.

Eventually we made our way downstairs to find our names on table settings. Three courses, two bottles of wine, and countless stories told into microphones about the newlyweds.

After the requisite dances, we all hit the floor and shared our moves. Caught up with aunts and uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers, all had one too many drinks. Beat the parents to bed and woke ready for family breakfast.