I don't know if I've mentioned it, but there will be a dance in the Spring for the sixth graders.
Nolan's class has been all a-twitter about it since September.
All that forethought, all that social planning--if only they showed that much enthusiasm for homework.
I don't know how it came about, but his father and I have been tormenting him.
First of all, like most kids, if he sees us hug or kiss, we get a big "eewwww."
Secondly, the thought of us being seen somewhere in public with him is starting to not be so appealing.
Because I am a sicko, I decided we would tell him, every chance we get, that we will chaperone this soiree in the spring.
So we shake our groove thang in the kitchen, and tell him, "Look, we're perfecting our moves."
We wiggle around the hallway, promising him that it'll look better in a bigger space.
Dancing cheek-to-cheek can be taken to another level entirely, and I swear, I think I saw the words, "My eyes! My eyes! It burns!" spontaneously appear above his head last night.
"Stop that," he says, exasperated as can be.
"No way, man," we tell him, as we double over in laughter.
We have no intention of doing it. It's just fun to mess with the kid.
I'm sure he'll find some way to return the favor.