Several weeks ago, my teenage daughter and her friends attended a middle school dance. Junior high social collaborations are a funny thing. Teens and preteens come together to test their moves, look cool, and maybe actually dance with the opposite sex. Though I had been rather sick on the night of the dance and could barely keep my eyes open for a 9 p.m. pickup, I assured my husband that I’d be happy to get the girls. Post-dance car rides are a short but precious period of time. Ah, what a mom might learn.
“How was it?” I inquired casually, as the girls settled into the car.