Last night I attended a gala that supports our community of Down syndrome individuals and Bailey was my date. He was a really bad date. Doesn’t having a date guarantee a dance partner? Yes, I realize it isn’t an obligation. After all, I am simply his mother. The one that endured nine months of morning sickness along with him using my bladder as a trampoline. No, really, you do you boo.
So, he ignored me. He told me to go dance with my friends. Instead, I danced with his friends. I photobombed any selfie that he and his friends were taking. I danced behind him. Don’t judge me. You see, this delightful young man can be quite the asshole. Yes, I am aware that it is a our children’s prerogative to push their parents aside when in a social setting. Blah. Blah. Blah. Turnabout is fair play, my friends. Challenge was definitely accepted.
When we got home, I told him it would have been nice if he had danced with me once. You see, one time would have deterred me from all of my playful antics. He says, “I did dance with you”. Yeah, I am pretty sure that glaring at me while standing still during a song, isn’t considered dancing. Whatever.
Look, I am not asking for kidney here people. Just a dance. Yes, I get it. I am cramping his style. He is trolling for chicks and hanging with his buds. Blah. Blah. Blah. But, maybe next time he will be willing to comply. Probably not. He still can’t let go of his father doing the limbo at his prom. What can I say? He has parents that live to embarrass him. Pretty much the reason I had children was to have tiny laborers and an outlet for my own amusement. I blessed society with them. You’re welcome, by the way.
Aside from his lack of interest in cutting a rug with his delightful mother, it was a great night. Sure, we couldn’t find the car at the end. (We came out a different way and I am directionally challenged.) My hip and feet hurt, but it was all worth it. Maybe one day, he will appreciate my fun, quirky side. I won’t hold my breath.