For those of you following the No Freakin' at the Formal story, you will remember the permission slip that required five signatures to attend the dance. Tonight during dinner, I remembered to ask my son if anyone was "grinding or freaking." He gave that look. The look of pity for the poor, pathetic clueless mother. Yes, he informed me, at least half of the kids danced that way, of course. And the adults did nothing about it.
"What?" I asked, truly surprised after the incredibly detailed and legal form we had to sign promising our children would not so much as think about any sexual moves for the entire night. I was expecting if any of the kids even touched each other they would spend the night in jail, followed by rehab in a residential facility made famous by Tiger Woods.
"Mom," my middle son in 8th grade piped up, "that form is just to make the parents feel secure."
Well how did he know that and I didn't? It's not going to work on me again!