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Dance, Dance Baby!

You guys were all disappointed by that post on writing the other day, weren’t you? Because I know what you really want to know. I know what keeps you coming back here. You want to know, nay, you can’t sleep till you know…

…what happened at the school dance.

Let’s see. They served Oreos and popcorn. Which I like because the boy is incapable of eating an Oreo without leaving a trail of chocolate around his mouth. “Stop eating Oreos!” “I’m not—mumble, mumble, chew, chew—eating Oreos!” Don’t need Colonel Mustard in the library with the wrench for this one!

The girl found her friends. And was gone. For the night. I got one dance with her before I was ditched for the A-list crowd. Which apparently does not include me. If I make L-list, in her world, I think I should be excited.

True to his word, the boy gave me a dance. Well, not quite a dance. More like three swivels of his hips, when a lovely girl in a red dress from his class tapped his shoulder. He took one look and ran. She ran after him. The rest of the dance was spent with him attempting to break dance until she spied him, at which point, it was really more a 5k than a school dance.

And the best part of the dance? It’s every child’s worst nightmare. A mother with a video camera! You can see the action yourself: