I mean, they must.
If they didn't want me to elope, they would never have told me how to do my own wedding. What's with saying, "T, you need to have red roses instead of orchids in your bouquet," or "Canned music? No, you must spend $3000 on a DJ who will play the wrong songs, anyway" or "We know you drew up the guest list, but we thought we'd invite 30 extra people and not tell you, all of whom live in the area and so are bound to come. What? There's a limit to the number of people who can come to the wedding? Well, you should have told us 1001 times instead of just 1000. Silly girl."
Ah, my dear parents. I know you love me but I thought you wanted to share in this day instead of pushing me over the border to Mexico where, in spite of the airline tickets, it's much cheaper and much easier to get married. And Raoul has such a nice lilt to his accent--much sweeter than the reverend's booming pronouncements of wife submitting to husband, which only makes me think of sex and handcuffs.