Tim attended his first dance Saturday night. More accurately this was his first formal dance. He attended his cousin's Bat Mitzvah a few years back, boogied down to YMCA, and danced the Horah.
This was an even dressier event.
The girls were decked out in white gloves and miles of tulle. The boys' outfits ranged from jackets and ties for the youngest guys to tails for the older ones. Watching a thousand kids parade into the civic center in formal dress was a sight to behold.
The organization hosting this affair is called Social. I've heard about it for years, and, frankly, have done a bit of scoffing over the whole idea. It all sounded to me like Project Debutante Wanna Be with a bunch of high falutin' country club folk.
I just love it when I eat my words. I've swallowed so many, I'm beginning to acquire a taste for them.
So it was with Social. A friend encouraged me to think about it. Saturday night I thanked her profusely -- practically with tears in my eyes -- because Tim has loved every minute of it, and so have we, his parents.
I can see how social grace is a learned trait and one that can be very helpful in life. Social has reinforced a premise I've found true in other areas of parenting -- sometimes kids need to hear an outside voice,just another someone saying introduce yourself, make eye contact, manners matter, etc.. Social does all this very well. Plus the kids learn to waltz and to shag and to do the twist.
A thousand kids paraded in. The seats were packed with parents who paid ten bucks a head to watch. Dave sat down and said the words I've thought all year long - cash cow! A veritable gold mine.
But you know what? It was worth it, worth it, worth it -- worth the money, worth the driving, worth investing $40 in a pair of Good Humor Man white pants I promise you he'll never wear again.