Last Saturday was the prom. As a mother of a two year old daughter and a ten month old son, I am not affected in the slightest by the ongoings of a small town prom. I did notice a few fancy cars cruising down my street with drivers sporting up do's or tuxes. And while I did take notice, it didn't interrupt my day whatsoever.
Because as the mother of two small children, I take great pride in the fact that I do not have to go prom dress shopping for at least another fourteen years. I do not have to be asked for money for the tanning salon, drive my teenager and her girlfriends to a mall three hours away to try on thousands of dresses, or hand over the keys to my Honda Accord (because that's what I'll be driving as soon as I can get rid of my minivan) to my teenage son.
I know that I was a real pearl for my mother during my prom days. In fact, I was so good that I dread the day I have to take Noah shopping. I know God works like that. I know my penance is coming.
Nonetheless, I did take Noah to "promenade." That's the gathering in the auditorium where the community (nosy onlookers) can come see all the kids in their fancy get-ups. She sat on my lap like an angel and clapped after each dress crossed the stage. It was a bit of a special moment (only because I knew I still had those fourteen years).
Later that evening, as I laid down with Noah at her bedtime, we talked about the prom.
"Did you like the prom, Noah?"
"Which was your favorite dress?"
"The pink one."
"What color dress do you want when you go to the prom, Noah."
"I want a blue one, momma. But, momma, you drive me, okay? Cause I not drive."
"Yes, Noah, mommy would love to drive you to the prom."
Mark my words, folks, in fourteen years I will be driving my daughter and her date in my Honda Accord to her junior prom. Mark my words.