We pack up our lovely daughter; hair pulled high, curls cascading, tulle or silk flowing, heels clicking - and drive for nearly an hour so she can dance her feet off.
The young men are there in abundance (duh, that's why we take her) and we smile and trade guarded whispers about whose talking to whom and why.
Beloved and I listened to one childless couple complain about the quality of dancers. It reminded me of that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Carolyn Bingley moaned about those in attendance. It took every ounce of my strength to not turn to this middle aged couple and say, "Really?".
I chatted with another mama whose children were dancing the night away. We found that we had several things in common and that we knew many of the same folks and yet we'd never met. She was a lovely mother of six and while we chatted about people we both knew (she grew up in the same town as Beloved) my eyes kept wandering around the room to find Girl.
At last the clock struck midnight, well it struck 9:30 anyway, and we began saying our farewells...until I turned around and noticed that Girl was talking to THAT young man.
I turned quickly around, looked my new friend in the eye and proclaimed, "I can't leave yet!"
I explained how Girl was talking to THAT young man, the one from the good family. The one who is such a nice young man. The one who is polite and respectful...and trying so hard to get to know Girl.
Yeah, that one!
My new friend laughed and peeked around me to see who it was that was holding my daughters attention.
"I know him," she whispered, "such a nice young man!"
And then it struck me! If that sour faced woman who complained about the quality of dancers was Carolyn Bingley, than surely I was Mrs. Bennett.
God save me.
And save Girl too before I make a fool of both of us!