Thursday, October 21, 2010

Symphonic Romance

Miss Proper went to the symphony last eve with a group of fifty from her middle school band.  Thankfully (or not), I was not with them.  I probably would have cramped her style. 

Fortunately, I had been in the right place (Kohl's) at the right time last week (just as new additions were being placed on the gold star clearance rack!) and had purchased her a beautiful new dress for such an occasion. Then, I shopped with a pal on Monday and found her some cute shoes to boot. When she was dressed she looked at herself in the full length mirror and pronounced, "I look awesome." Wish I had possessed that much self-confidence at her age (or now).  I agreed with her and subsequently dropped her at school yelling through the open hooptie window that I loved her and to have a great time.  I saw that little "shut-up-mom-you-are-embarrassing-the-crap-out-of-me"  cringe on her shoulders as she walked away from the hooptie and into the band hall.  What can I say?  I'm a mom; I get paid to mortify my children in front of their peers.  I'm certain that it's a prerequisite for motherhood.

Before the symphony, the group enjoyed burgers at the Hard Rock Cafe which apparently has some kind of fancy progressive restrooms where the wall between the mens and womens does not fully extend to the ceiling.  What is that?  I'm going to have to start checking that out when I visit the powder room, especially when I already have such stage fright when it comes to public restrooms.  Just add something else to my list of things to fret about.  And then I start wondering about the person who designed said restroom--a sicko or just an incompetent.  At any rate, the girls could hear the boys talking over the wall while they were at the sinks and then paper towels rained down on the girls.  Do you love the subtleness of eleven-year-old boys flirting?       

Miss Proper got to sit next to THE boy at the symphony which would not have happened if I had been there.  He actually had a real conversation with her and told her a story that lasted the whole intermission.   
She was floating four feet off the ground when I picked her up at 11:00 pm; I had to grab her wrist and yank her down into my hooptie lest she float off into the sky.  We tucked the monsters RNR and Bonus back into bed and sat down at the kitchen table to discuss all the happenings of the evening, which included the increasingly-romantic throwing of paper across the bus to get her attention (him) followed by the requisite eye rolls (her).  Isn't this exactly how you remember sixth grade romance?  If only paper thrown across a vehicle could still make my heart skip a beat.  Those were the days.

Not.  Okay, maybe a little.  Don't try paper throwing on me now though; I'll just smack you.  But, I love hearing all the stories of her current crush, and I love that she shares down to the tiniest detail with me.  I do not take this for granted.

     

1 comment:

  1. I love that she shares those details with you, too. Your writing lead me to envision you repeating these same late night chats when Miss Proper for many many years to come.

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