I didn’t know which direction to go with tonight’s post, so I thought I’d throw a few ideas at you and let you vote.
Here’s the setup:
Tonight was seven-year-old Julianna’s very first School Dance.
Here’s where you come in. Choose your favorite quip…
I immediately headed to the darkest corner of the auditorium where I found myself on so many occasions when I was a kid, hating all the cool kids. I heard a voice behind me.
“Hello, old friend,” said the wall. “Welcome home.”
Five-year-old Isabella was the prettiest school dance partner I’ve had since Patty Thomas in the 7th grade. But as you probably know, I like girls with long, curly brown hair.
KC Sunshine called. He specifically asked me to stop shake-shake-shaking my booty or pay a hefty fine. “It’s supposed to be a dance floor, man,” he said. “You’re turning it into a Crime Scene.”
I couldn’t get up the courage to ask anyone to dance. My mother tells me that I’m just a little socially awkward, and that it is a “phase” which I will grow out of. Some day, she promises, I’ll start “making friends.”
I guess it’s true that you’ll always be a kid to your parents. Which gives me a great excuse to not clean up my room. Do you think the wife will buy it?
Everything was going well until a Conga Line broke out. It unfortunately turned on itself, causing a 40-kid pile-up. Traffic was backed up for 50 feet.
Vote early. Vote often…