Several weeks ago, I wrote about navigating through newly chartered 8th grade dance waters. As the topic of a formal junior high affair provides quite a bit of blogging fodder, I thought I’d provide an update of all things “dance.”
My son (finally!) (officially!) asked a girl to formal. And let’s be clear here, the boys are expected to ask the girls to formal in some extraordinary way. Gone are the days of, “Will you be my date for the dance?” Such simple questions have been replaced with crazy tricks, schemes, fancy poems, songs, and raps. My poor boy was panicked the night before the big to-do. His date request had to be something cool, something that would be talked about for years to come. Such unnecessary pressure for the kids if you ask me. Anyway, Gerald took our oldest to the store to get a poster board to write out a witty dance date request and stemmed roses, I’m sure to help seal the deal. I mean, if you’re the targeted girl, saying no to a boy with flowers is just wrong. Unless of course he is a total creep, which my son is not.
So to make my long drawn out story shorter (you’re welcome), boy asked girl and girl said yes. Then mom took boy shopping for some sharp dressed man clothes. As is typical when it’s just my oldest and me, we clash like oil and water. Gerald thinks it’s weird because our oldest is just like me. I’ve tried to explain to Gerald that since I’ve never had to be on the receiving end of me, I don’t know how to deal with our son either.
After buying nice new dress clothes that I’m hoping my youngest will also someday be able to wear for something, I mentioned to clueless older son that we need to order a corsage, pronto.
Me: I believe wrist corsages are what is done these days.
Me: Flowers? A little corsage of flowers for your date’s wrist? I’m sure she will be expecting you to give her a corsage.
Me: We’ll order something from the florist shop Monday. Did you confirm the color of your date’s dress?
Me: Never mind.
There’s been talk of dinner beforehand, but thankfully I haven’t heard any more about party buses and limos (for a group of 8th graders). It appears my son still thinks he and his friends may go do something after the dance. Ummm… yeah, that’s still called “go home.” Update on that part — Apparently, about 10 or so of these ummm.. kiddos will be hanging out at our house after the dance. (God help us all) I told our son they have till midnight at our house. No later. Uh huh.
The dance is this Saturday. I’m pretty sure I’ll have some more blogging nuggets. We’ll see. Stay tuned…