Corsages and Chaperones
���Please, Mom, don���t let her do it,��� Emma begged.
���It says right here that anyone can volunteer to chaperone the dance as long as you don���t have a criminal record and you���re not a perv,��� I said. ���I���m not either of those things.��� I pointed at the paper containing the 8th grade formal dance information.
���Surely you realize that we live in a small town and anything you���ve ever done as a child will be remembered for the rest of your life and brought up frequently when you meet your classmates later on in life,��� Layce said. ���This includes Emma and her 8th grade dance. People will remember her crazy chaperone. She���ll never live it down.
���No one brings up the fact that you took the principal���s car for a joyride. All the way to Tulsa,��� I retorted.
���Yes, but I moved. I don���t live in that town anymore.���
���You stole a car?��� Emma asked her eyes big.
Layce glared at me. ���I didn���t steal a car. I borrowed it.���
���Did you hotwire it?��� Emma asked.
Layce glared at me again. ���No, he left the keys on his desk and I took the opportunity to appropriate them while he was gone.���
���What were you doing in the principal���s office?��� Emma inquired.
���I was getting a Student of the Year award,��� Layce said.
Emma and I both rolled our eyes. Everyone knows those awards are given out during a school assembly.
���Back to the topic at hand, I want to chaperone the dance. I seldom get the chance to have parental experiences because I didn���t come along until Emma was ten. I missed a lot.��� I was seriously guilting them, but I wanted this bad.
���Are you going to wear the bunny ears?��� Emma asked.
I was standing in the kitchen wearing the bunny ears. Sometimes a person just feels like putting on their bunny ears.
���Well, of course, they���ll go perfectly with my bar mitzvah suit.��� I meant the tux I found at the thrift store that had been tailored for someone petite. It fit me perfectly. ���Or I could wear my Bob Barker suit.��� Another thrift store find���a small, green suit that also fit perfectly. ���But the bunny ears won���t look as good.��� The suit was a light green.
Emma put her hand in her head. ���You can���t let her do this to me.��� She gazed at her mother. And then she seemed to have an eureka moment. ���Unless I can wear my white wig with my gray beret and the purple fox tail.���
���For the love of God neither one of you are going to the dance like that. I���ll never live it down.���
���You���re no fun,��� I said pouting.
I didn���t get to chaperone but I did get to be the photographer. After the dance we lined up with all the other parents to pick up their kids. I wanted a picture of Emma with her boyfriend (he shall go unnamed to protect the innocent.)
���I don���t know how you���re going to get a picture with this line of cars,��� Layce said.
���You���re going to stop and I���ll hop out real quick and get a photo,��� I replied, scanning the crowd for Emma.
���This is a round-about line. You can only stop to pick up your kid not get out of the car to take pictures.���
���That rule doesn���t apply for school dances.���
���You do realize you���re breaking the Social Contract?��� Layce said.
I should never have told her about the Social Contract. It requires that one doesn���t lie, cheat, steal or otherwise break the rules for purely selfish reasons���it���s the basis of a civilized world.
���I believe there is a clause in there that states one can be inconvenient during once-in-a-lifetime sentimental moments involving children.��� I spotted Emma and her boyfriend. ���Stop right here.���
I grabbed the camera and leapt out of the car. I���d forgotten I was wearing my house slippers. I got my pant leg caught on the door handle. It hiked my pant leg up to mid-thigh. Emma was mortified as I disregarded the wardrobe malfunction due to time constraints.
���What���s wrong with your pants?��� she asked.
���Nothing,��� I said as I pulled the errant pant leg down. ���Now hurry, stand next to your boyfriend (who still shall remain unnamed), we���re the breaking the Social Contract.
I glanced over to find boyfriend���s mother taking photos as well. We smiled at each other. ���I finally found a corsage in town,��� she said.
I looked puzzled. What the hell was a corsage? Was she referring to fancy undergarments? And if she was why was she telling me? Emma must have seen my bewilderment.
She held up her wrist. ���See, isn���t my CORSAGE beautiful.��� Corsages evidently were a bunch of flowers all squished together to make a bracelet.
���Oh, right.�� Yes, it���s very nice,��� I said.
Emma got in the car and banged her head on the back of the headrest. ���Oh, my God. That was horrid.���
���We���ll get through it,��� Layce said soothingly.
���I can���t wait until next week when we go for high school registration and we get the tour of the school,��� I said.
���You can���t ask a bunch of questions, promise me,��� Emma said.
���Well, some questions at least. I think it���s my duty as a parent to inquire of fire exits, how often are the fire extinguishers are checked, if there���s an evacuation plan, how a lock-down works������
���Mom���.please,��� Emma said.
���I don���t know what all the fuss is about,��� I muttered. They had no idea about the outfit I planned on wearing. It was going to be a surprise. I think they���ll be pleased.
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