Oily Bohunks Need Not Apply

My oldest daughter will be participating in Fortnightly dance classes this Fall, the first of which is in two weeks.  I’d like to say I am taking this in stride, but truthfully?  I’m not really sure I’m ready.  All of a sudden my memories of those cute little boys in her kindergarten class are taking on a new dimension.  Didn’t I catch Jack carrying her backpack for her the other day?  Why is Alex lending her all of those books?  Wasn’t she a little too excited when we ran into Henry at the grocery store?  And then I remember all of my own school dance disasters, and my fear for her is no longer just related to the boys, but to all of the socially awkward hurdles you potentially have to navigate at a social dance class.  Case in point:

Remember Farmer Ted?

But I promised myself I would match her own enthusiasm about the activity, and I promised her that if she assumed a few extra chores around the house, she could select a new dress or skirt for the occasion.  My hope is she’ll find a full suit of armor at a discount.  (Just kidding, Almost Tween)

Wish us luck as we cross yet another milestone off the list!  And yes, I know this is far more tame than the ones to come (I heard someone out there whisper “otto-mo-biiile…”). Gasp!

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