"Tonight we have Jazz Night at the high school," my 16 year old informed us at dinner.
"Do we have to go?" the 11 year old boy wanted to know.
"It will be fun!" she continued, "there will be food and dancing."
"Dancing?!" I was suddenly very excited. I'd been perfecting new hip hop moves from an exercise DVD earlier that day.
The 16 year old suddenly looked horrified. "Not you! You may NOT dance!"
Mmmkay - but this may directly impact your grade, Missy.
We arrived and sat. The band director kept making motions for people to get up and dance. I finally left my family and joined the "cool table" closer to the band. I might add that this very well may just complete my bucket list. Had I made a bucket list when I was a teenager, no doubt it would have included going to Reo Speedwagon and Bon Jovi concerts, lose my virginity and sit at the "cool" table in the cafeteria.
Done. Done. Done. And done.
The cool table also included the husband of the band director who was given a "look" by Ms. Kaye. She then started a new song and grabbed his hand. And they danced. I pouted a little bit.
Eventually, they finished and Mr. Husband (formerly known as my bishop) invited me to dance. Hip hop? Alas, the Cha-Cha which I can only do when I talk to myself (slow, slow, quick, quick). I'm a great conversationalist, obviously. I lost my concentration when someone pointed at my performing daughter who was red faced and mortified. I tripped on the bishop's feet and gave up all pretense of grace.
She was ruined now. I went ahead and yelled out "HI, ALYSSA!" just to determine which child owned this mother and sat down.
Next time I'll get to do my hip hop routine.