Friday, November 17, 2017

Mother-Son Dance With Unexpected Visitors




My own karate kid graduated to a green belt.


Mother-Son dance with friends.


Seventh grade basketball buddies.

Lately, I've been acutely aware that I am the odd man out at the fraternity.  The boys have gravitated towards masculine pursuits, and I am holding firm on my (seemingly) dwindling femininity.  When we're wrestling with a movie choice, those films with action heroes and suspense always win.  When we're questioning how to use our free time, something with a ball, nerf gun, or a video game controller is always the crowd favorite.

I miss frilly, mushy, pastel, quiet, dainty stuff.

But the catch is that I love my crew.  Because I love them so much, I've become acquainted with Ironman and all his cronies.  I can rattle off NBA statistics and NFL wins with the best of them.

What's the expression, "If you can't beat em, join em."

I'm a joiner.

Last Friday night, I accompanied Collin to the mother-son dance at his elementary school.  From prior mother-son dance experiences, I knew what to expect: little dancing, lots of action.

As soon as I walked into the elementary school gym, I became keenly aware that we had not entered into a dainty dance hall.  The DJ was clad in a superhero costume and screaming into a microphone.  The scene on the dance floor looked less like Footless and more like WWF meet.  Activity booths lined the gym with a sugar, upon more sugar buffet near the stage (which may explain the scene on the dance floor).

Collin opted for the activity booths.  I chatted with other moms while keeping an eye on Collin's whereabouts.

Early in the evening, I noticed that the room seemed particularly smoggy.  The fog machine was definitely working on overdrive, I noted.  But, the boys seemed to love the hazy environment.

About 30 minutes into our evening, the fire alarm began to blare.  At first, no one batted an eye.  Then, the principal ushered us all into the halls as firemen entered the gym to assess the situation.

After an extended period of hall time, we were allowed back into the gym.  It seems someone "accidentally" clicked the fog machine on the continuous button (thus explaining the extra foggy room).  The firemen continued to hang around the gym as the boys wandered back into their party.  A few firetrucks were parked outside the school.

I went up to one firefighter and explained that having the trucks and the men at the party was the best thing that happened to these boys in ages.  Real life firemen with real life trucks at a party made the night complete!

After we left, I thought about how much different the daddy-daughter dance must go for those who attend.  I'm imaging the fire department has never showed up to their parties.  How quiet and peaceful those evenings must be for those lucky girls and their fathers.....but I bet their stories aren't as good as the moms with the boys!




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