This afternoon, I was driving Caroline home after her piano practice and I remembered to ask her if she wanted to go to the Sock Hop tomorrow night, where her Dad has been recruited to play Elvis to entertain the kids.
"Yes", she said. "I want to go, even though it's much too late to ask anyone to go with me."
Of course, a "date" hadn't crossed my mind, but I wanted to show that I'm taking her seriously, so I replied,
"Well, that's OK, right? I mean, if you go by yourself, you can dance with whomever you please. That's good thing, huh?"
"Mom!" *sigh* "I don't dance at all!"
"Really? Then why are you going TO A DANCE?"
She gives me this look that most mothers know. You know, the one that says, "You are so OLD and still, YOU KNOW NOTHING." But she condescends to answer me anyway.
"I go for the root beer floats, of course!"