The First Dance

No, this is not what he's wearing tonight.



Seriously. I'm not ready for this.

First, while waiting in the pick up line for Young One on Monday, I witnessed girls with cleavage and cell phones. Some had both, more were texting than slouching if you know what I mean. Apparently, there's been a lot of growing up going on in the sixth grade girls over the summer or these girls were much older. Like as in two years older. The dreaded EIGHTH GRADERS.

Second, there's been discussion of manly man shower gel and volunteer showering. I repeat volunteer showering.

Third, there's a dance this Friday. A dance. Suddenly, I'm picturing my own Junior High dances which consisted of giggling girls constantly reapplying Bonnie Bell lip gloss and traveling in herds. There were sweaty palms, slow dancing to Journey's Open Arms with much shorter boys, and rushed trips to the bathroom to discuss who liked who. Relationships were made and broken the same evening and much drama ensued.

I seem to also remember screaming You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC with all my friends. I was thirty years old before I knew what it meant. Good times.

How did we get this far so fast?

The middle school years were topsy turvy for me. I don't want to put that on him, so I won't share unless the time is right. I think girls are probably meaner, so perhaps his experiences won't be so bad. Speaking with my friends and their husbands, though, we've all been cringing with the memories and the awkwardness of it all.

The dances are from 2:45 until 4:30, which really cracked me up. The thought of a DJ and a glitterball at that hour seems harmless enough.

Newsflash, I've just been informed that there will be inflatable bouncing things and a climbing wall as well as a DJ. Guess where he'll be? Emergency averted for another day.