Some brilliant individual from down the road (in the next city. The rest of the boonies are towns out here) decided to hold a Valentine's Dance. And ALL the little townships nearby are invited.
First: The two older children are grounded. Bad grades just aren't conducive to their rear ends going to an extracurricular function.
But my middle and youngest chicken? Oh yeah! They're all excited about it. They are in FOURTH and FIFTH grade. The dance is for grades 4-8. Now, let me tell you, there is one hell of a lot of difference between a fourth grader and an eighth grader. Am I the only one who sees this?
The fifth grader asked this little boy, but she doesn't know if he's going with someone else or not. And my baby...MY BABY...has a date.
When I looked over at her and said..."No kissy. No touchy. No nothing." She looked at me, grinned, and said..."Mom. It's not a (insert visual of girl chicken using fingers to make "quote" marks) CRUSH date."
Oh. My. God.
The dance is being put on by the Firefighters Association from the city. There will be chaperones. Concession. All that good stuff. But if I decide to let my children go...there will be one more thing. ME.
Oh yes. The Mama. And if that's not copacetic....too damn bad.
I'm still undecided. I really hadn't planned on spending my Saturday evening watching young people huddle up in groups beginning the adolescent ritual of flirting and whatnot.
3 months ago