The entrance to teenager is complete. After turning 13 this week--my son not only can go into a whole new level of movie without me, he went to his first middle school dance. And I chaperoned. Not because I was worried, but because I was excited for him.
And it was everything I remember middle school dances to be: awkward; strobe lights (well maybe I didn't always have those!); pumping music so loud it was hard to talk; segregated by gender on the dance floor; and an absolute blast.
My son never danced. He wandered around the dance floor. He hid between banks of lockers. He joked around with the other boys. He had long conversations with the adult chaperones. He brought his mother punch (with an eyeball floating in it--it was a Halloween dance after all) and pieces of candy corn and fudge. And he took over the DJing for a few songs--including the freeze dance competition. I think he had fun.
And at the end when all the kids went running outside giggling, shrieking and thoroughly sated from their "first dance omg it was the best ever!!!"ready to go home, he stayed and cleaned up; along with us adults who were laughing, teasing, reminiscing and thoroughly sated from having been a part of our first borns' first dance.
Then we went home, the three of us: his father the DJ; me--his mother the chaperone, and my wonderful son--the teenager who experienced a rite of passage. And we played Mario Kart wii--until midnight. 13 is good.
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