wallflower

There I stood, my back against the wall, trying to keep an expression of amused contentment on my face so no one would guess that I felt completely awkward. The dance floor was full, and I kept a close eye on the tight groups of kids who moved in and out of circles. I was especially aware of the pairs who seemed to be trying to disappear inside of those circles, what were they up to out there? I wondered if I would dance at all tonight.

The room was dark and dank. I eyed the refreshments table, thinking I could loiter over there for a while to keep up the pretense that I was doing more than just staring at the dancers. I noticed a boy sitting alone at the bank of chairs near the long, dripping table of junk food.  He stood out because he was the only boy sitting under a chair. I wondered if he was okay. Would it be helpful for me to go and talk to him? Should I get him a drink? Sit with him… under there? I edged closer and nonchalantly said hi, and asked if he was okay. He ran out of the room. Literally.

I retreated to my post against the wall, where I had a good overall view of the room. I fervently wished that someone would spike the punch. This dance was boring and endless, and a cocktail would be just the thing to take the edge off.  I’d like to slip a shot to half the spazoid kids out there, too. But I won’t, because that would be inappropriate behavior for a chaperone.

This was my son’s first middle school dance, and yes, I was a chaperone. Me! 

to be continued...