Last year I remember mentally rolling my eyes at a friend who wouldn’t allow her three-year-old to be the flower girl in a wedding. Said friend was worried that the stress would be too much for her child, so she turned down her best friend’s request.

Fast forward a year, and my husband’s sister, Bette, was getting married. Bette asked her three youngest nieces to be flower girls. An older niece would be a reader and all four girls would wear adorable, matching dresses.

We were touched at Bette’s inclusiveness, and we accepted the invitation on almost-three-year-old Serena’s behalf. It would be a friendly crowd, we thought, and Serena was excited to dress up and participate with her slightly older (and thus idolized) cousins.

The big weekend arrived and all was well. The rehearsal went without incident. On the big day the girls couldn’t have been cuter. The dresses were accessorized with adorable bouquets shaped like fairy wands. All of the cousins were cleaned, combed, and photogenic, even the boys with their matching vests and bow ties. Everyone smiled for the pre-wedding pictures, bribed with candy and the promise of post-wedding treats.

The music started and the attendants went down the aisle. The girls began their march, everyone following the subtle line on the floor as directed by their mommies/drill sergeants. First one flower girl, then the second, and then Serena started to make her way. The first two or three steps went well, but then it happened.

The “subtle line” on the floor was actually the site of some slightly uneven flooring. Serena tripped on the line, fell down, and began to sob. By this I mean inconsolable, loud, bawling crying.

Since SJ was an attendant, I tossed the baby at another sister-in-law and went to pick her up amid a sympathetic flurry of tut-tuts and knowing glances from the 150-odd assembled dearly beloved.

Once we were in our seats, Serena was fine, content to watch the wedding while chewing on Starbursts with the rest of her cousins. I talked to her about how exiting the church is really the most important part, and I’m happy to say that she managed this with ease after the ceremony.

So what’s the moral of the story? Was it a mistake to let her be in the wedding? I say no.

Serena loved being part of the wedding – playing and posing with her cousins, dressing alike, getting the flower wand, and having the important title of “flower girl” before and after the wedding itself. Someday she’ll be proud to have been asked to be part of Aunt Bette and Uncle David’s special day.

Thinking about it (almost) objectively, I’m not sure how much pressure she actually internalized. She was one of three flower girls, and she falls and/or cries at least twice a day. I hope that in her mind she fell, cried a little, and her mommy came to pick her up. Afterwards, I held her and talked to her, and dozens of people made kind comments that night to cheer her up.

I won’t lie to you; it makes me sad to think of her crying in the aisle, but I suppose that’s life. I’m not going to take away her big opportunities for fear of a few tears. We all fall on our face now and then; it shouldn’t be the end of the world. To paraphrase Finding Nemo (man; am I a mom or what!) I can’t promise that nothing will happen to her, because then nothing would happen to her.

As always, I’m hoping for the best. Worst case, here’s another item ultimately be discussed on Serena’s therapist’s couch. Put it on my tab…