Dancing with boys

When I was in junior high, I was terrified of boys. If a boy so much as looked at me with the slightest bit of admiration or attention, I was mortified.

I remember at a school dance, when I was in 7th or 8th grade, I was asked to dance by a boy in one of my classes. His name was Todd. I can still picture his flushed face and feel his sweaty hands when I think about that first slow dance. It was awful. I hated feeling his breath on my neck and couldn't wait for the song to end. It seemed like an eternity. He even had the nerve to say "You look really beautiful tonight." Can you imagine anything worse than that???

Fast forward 25 years, and my daughter is now attending middle school dances. And dancing with boys. She is much more confident than I was at that age—and thankfully, much more comfortable around the opposite sex.

All of us parents of her class have been going through our photos, pulling out pictures to use in the graduation slide show in a few months. Another mom sent me this photo she captured at one of the dances last year, and I nearly died laughing.

This poor boy has had a crush on Olivia since day 1 . . . and she patiently and kindly puts up with it (most of the time). But his smirk, her clenched eyes and pursed lips, and her friend's laughter at the whole thing, say to me that maybe the nut doesn't fall too far from the tree.

I just hope her first kiss is better than mine . . .