Friday, April 09, 2010

Kick'n it old school!

Dad's of daughters have a very common bond; we are not cool. There was not an ounce of cool, rhythm or coordination to be found. But you know what? Nobody cared. The mom's were all left at home so none of us had to endure ridicule of our dance stylings, and the girls were all under 10, so they were not mortified. I gotta tell you, our schools just are not getting the job done with education. Did you know not ONE kid knew how to do the electric slide? I was the macarena expert. And hey, nooobody does hammer-time like me! Some girl was trying to moonwalk...step off little sister. This is only for the fly muthas!

Seriously though, most of the night was like recess in dress clothes. Girls running. Girls screaming, that shrill, high pitched, make the coyotes cringe girlie scream. At one point even Alexandra had had enough. "It's too loud in there." And just when I thought we were heading home early, a friend of hers found her. And then another. And then they went to the bathroom. And then another girl went into the bathroom. And still more. And none came out. 5 minutes pass; 4 more girls in...none out. My daddy anxieties are flying now, "Maybe something happened. Maybe she had an accident and they're all staring and laughing at her. Maybe I should go in." And then "Cotton Eye Joe" starts playing and it's like someone announced free autographs from Nick Jonas. The ENTIRE posse comes cruising out of the restroom, Alexandra in the lead. Commence screaming. Unlike the electric slide, most of the girls had an idea about this dance. Next up was a set of Mylie Cyrus and a bunch of the girls got up on stage and started singing along to "Party in the USA." Alexandra was just jumping around with her 1st grade friends (she's in kindergarten). And the Dads? Well we did what Dads do. Hell we did what we've all done since co-ed dances in 5th grade. We sat or stood against the walls! Once Alexandra was cranked up again, she danced to everything, even Neil Diamond (which of course brought all the Dads out like it was the 8th inning at Fenway). Then it was Hammer-time! (Can't touch this...) Wish I had my parachute pants!

The dancing ended about the same time this odor arose in the gym. Little girls everywhere started holding their noses. Shoes were checked. Bummies surreptitiously sniffed. It smelled like someone had taken a dump right in the middle of the floor. And in the midst of this they raffled off the center pieces and assorted lovely parting gifts. We didn't win anything, but in the final assessment we made it home incident free. That's like the grand prize!

I don't know what it was, maybe the setting with a dance in the school gym, but I couldn't get the book/movie "Carrie" out of my head. It's a damn good thing all the kids were under 10 and there weren't boys involved. I can't imagine what it would be like with gender issues and hormones in play.

Oh wait, I can...