Hip mom.

Last night, Vince’s school had a beach party in the gym. You were suppose to get dressed up in shorts and Hawaiian shirts. Vince’s really, really wanted to dance with a certain girl he knew was going to show up and made it clear at the beginning of the party that he would prefer if I didn’t dance with him. You know, I think I’m a pretty hip mom. I can “get jiggy” with it. I know all about Hanna Montana and I listen to Avril. What else can I do? I think that I’m not really a prude, but there is something about having your 5 year old dance to the Pussycat Dolls, “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”

There was the standard YMCA song.



There were glow necklaces


Edda, the homebody that she is, took one look at the dance floor and heard the loud music and declared that she was going to have none of the ruckus and promptly fell asleep.

Watch out Tom Cruise.


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