They don’t smell a whole lot better than Jane’s subjects either

On Friday night The Bandit and I went to the school Mother Son Dance. Every time we attend this function — our second year in a row — I feel like Jane Goodall watching the chimps. That phenomenon not exclusive to this event. It can happen at soccer games or birthday parties, really anyplace a group of boy will gather. This event just happens to be the best for anthropological study because there is no other activities for them to be distracted by.

Upon showing our ticket and entering the party (in the decorated cafeteria) we were given a goody bag. There were a few pieces of candy and a large bouncy ball. You know the kind. You can get them for like fifty cents in a gumball machine. These were larger than usual; I couldn’t close my hand around this one. About the size of a small plum.

What do you think happens when you give 40 eight to twelve-year-old boys bouncy balls? I swear I’m just happy no one died.

Then the dancing began. We could have been in a commercial for seizure medication. There is absolutely no room for decorum or sophistication when it comes to how boys dance. As far as I know, no one was hurt by this display either, although it’s a miracle.

Next year, I’m bringing a notebook for observations and protective eye wear. I fully expect to be nominated for an award. Nobel – here I come.