Sweet DQ came home from school Monday talking about 'the big dance' that was scheduled for Friday. I remember dances in school...mostly because I wasn't allowed to go...except for the ones I went to on the sly...instead of being at a friend's house like I told my parents...okay, my behavior as a kid is a WHOLE nother story. Anyway, they were dances...you know...music, dim lighting, decorations, dancing. Middle school dances today are a different breed of function. There is a dancing room...if you call that music and dancing. There is also a game room (gym) for basketball, screaming, tag and general rowdiness.

So DQ talks about the dance all week. She buys the wrist band, makes plans to meet friends, convinces her dad to volunteer (I did my time last semester...really...once per year is enough). She comes home Friday and this is the conversation we had:

Me: So, what do you want to wear tonight to the dance?

DQ: With a look of complete disdain...uh, I'm wearing what I have on.

Me: You mean the t-shirt and ratty jeans you wore to school??

DQ: Mom, it's just a dance...NO ONE dresses up. You think I want to look cute??

Me: Well, could you at least brush your hair?

DQ: No...Mom when will you understand that the girly stuff just isn't me?

Since when is brushing your hair girly? Since when are t-shirts and ratty jeans appropriate attire for a dance? What is this world coming to?