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Could I pass as an 8th grade swing dancer?


This Friday marks the end of Reagan's childhood. Friday evening she'll advance into official teen years (in my book anyway) thanks to a forced school dance. Disguised as a gym class event, this swing dance (while technically optional) obligates all goers to dance; there will be no wall flowers.

Further are rules:
1. if asked, you must dance with the asker one dance. After the first dance, you are allowed to say no this asker.
2. No parents. Teachers will the chaperons.
3. there is to be only boy-girl dancing.

The dance will include grades 6 (Reagan's grade) to 8th (gulp). I am not sure I am cool with that. I don't trust 7th or 8th graders as far as I can throw them. Then again, I don't think I trust 6th grade boys either.

I have concerns about the boy-girl rule. What if they enforced a girl-girl and boy-boy only rule? Seems a bit odd to mandate either. I am not storming the capital mad about it yet. Yet.

Thankfully, this isn't one of those dances you get asked to. I am not sure how I am going to handle those but I am sure it includes top shelf liquor. And forget the day some boy comes to my house with a corsage in his hands.

Memories of my school dances are far too fresh for me to forget how kids see these things and the drama involved. If only there was some way I could spare Reagan the emotional toll; but knowing it is part of life I truly wonder if my parents paced, fretted, imbibed or whatever to ease the anxiety.

I feel like I am trapped in a John Hughes movie, only now I no longer play the role of quirky teen filled with angst, no, now I am the odd, helpless parent. I need a quick conversation with the casting director...

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