The Brat’s First Dance With A Girl!
It’s the kind of experience that separates the pre-teen years from the post-teen life…
The offspring came home one day with an expression Thor would have patented immediately for his own, so much thunder it contained within it. “I’ve been selected for the annual day dance performance,” he spat out, his face wearing 50 shades of disgust on it.
“But that is wonderful,” I exclaimed, the cup of maternal pride brimming over, given that he had been a great dancer back when he was enrolled in dance class and knew his hip hop from his locking and popping, and occasionally applied the face paint for stage shows, something he gave up after a rather unfortunate spat with the newbie dance teacher who then kept him in the exile of all stage performers—namely the last row. And then of course, swimming took over all his time and energy, and dance was relegated to the land of fond memories, brought out and dusted off fondly only occasionally during birthday parties when he would display his unrehearsed moves picked from song viewing on television to much appreciation.
“No,” he replied vehemently. “Is not wonderful. I have to dance with a GIRL!”
He shuddered. Then gulped bravely and continued, the words bursting forth with the pressure of pent up emotion. “I told teacher to give me another dance but she would not agree. And now I have to slow dance the tango with a girl.” His voice rose to eardrum-scraping decibel levels. “A girl.”
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