Dancing

I have dance on the brain. Kathryn dances on a competition team and has had two competitions recently. They have "won" trophies and ribbons in abundance. Yay. Here's the dirty little secret - everybody wins. It's just a matter of what type of trophy you win - bronze, silver, gold, platinum, blah, blah, blah. We don't take this all too seriously in our household. We don't own any t-shirts with rhinestone studs proudly proclaiming us as: "Dance Mom" or "Kate's Mom". And although I haven't checked Jon's closet, I don't think he has the male version of these shirts either. One more competition, a recital and Kathryn plans to hang up the shoes.

Top row, third from the left.

But I'm still thinking dance. Tomorrow night is the first Middle School Dance. I'm the assigned parent sucker in chargeorganizer. Besides the normal organizational activities such as, secure the date, beg for food, beg for chaperons, arrange for the lovely art teacher (and mother of eight grade girl) to decorate the cafeteria, this honor also includes talking with the children regarding the "Code of Conduct". The CoC, as you might imagine includes dress code, cell phone use, permission slips, blah, blah, blah. It also includes, and this was in the very small print of the handbook which does not exist, demonstrating to the children the appropriate, and more importantly, the inappropriate forms of dancing. In a Catholic School. Where we are not allowed to grind our bodies. And we must leave room for the Holy Spirit when we slow dance. My daughter is just now starting to speak to me again.