The 9th Grade Dance.

Last night, my oldest went to homecoming. Granted, when I was in 9th grade, it was the top of Junior High and not the bottom of High School. But still.

Still, memories flooded back to me.

Allow me to show you my dress. Lovely, no?

And my best friend at the time’s dress. Hmmm. You can see the problem.

9thdance

(I hid the faces so I wouldn’t get in trouble. The guy in the burgundy crushed velvet is my date, by the way. Woot!)

So it was a big deal, the dance.

I mean, did you see the corsage? Love it!

The cafeteria was decorated with streamers and balloons and sets. The theme was under the sea. Honestly? I can’t believe I remember this, but I do. I had a great time, although my date didn’t really seem to be glad he was with me. I think the girl he liked had a date or something. Sad, but true. I think I danced with my girlfriends most of all.

I thought we were on our way to being grown up. And now I see what 14 looks like from an adult perspective.

I try to remember how I felt then when I make decisions and statements to my kid now. I try. I swear I do.

And occasionally, I succeed.

(My kid had fun at the dance last night, by the way! He hung with his friends. Like mother, like son.)

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