I Love My Mom

I really do love my mom. I just needed to clarify that..... in case any of you have gotten the wrong idea from my last couple of posts. Also, my mom is a really good sport, and so it's all good. The fact that she doesn't own a computer might also be in my favour ;)

STORY #3

My first high school dance was pretty exciting. I spent quite a long time getting ready -- I wanted to look just perfect to make a good first impression. It was early September -- a beautiful evening. The weather had been gorgeous all day, and my mom was making the most of it by working in the garden. As I called out to say goodbye to her before leaving, I chuckled to myself as I took note of what she was wearing: a pair of plaid pedal pushers (old-fashioned term for "capris") and a paisley-print shirt. A bright pink chiffon scarf covered the curlers in her hair. "Oh well," I thought, "at least she's just in the backyard -- no one can see how hideous she looks."

I arrived at the high school and was soon on the dance floor with the very boy I hoped would ask me. I had developed a pretty bad crush on him, and was hoping he liked me too. He was a year older, so I really wanted to make a good impression. After only a few more minutes he nervously asked, "Um, isn't that your mom over there?" I looked toward the gymnasium door and was horrified to see my mother standing there -- wearing the exact clothes as when I left her -- calling my name. "Dixie! Dixie!" You didn't clean your room before you left like you promised you would."

I was too embarrassed to try and cut a deal with her, so I just left as fast as I could so that she would have to leave also. I went home and cleaned my room, and to be honest, I can't even remember if I went back to the dance, or not. I suspect it was a case of trauma-induced amnesia. One thing I do remember, though: I never made that mistake again!

Dixie