Homecoming is looming on the horizon, and with it comes a Homecoming Dance. Alex has already asked his girlfriend if she wants to go and has secured transportation in the form of one sleepy father who grunted sure before getting any details.

On the way home from the dojang this evening he mentioned that while he can dance, he has little experience slow dancing, and he understands this will be expected of him. Could you, he asked his mother, help with that?

Before she could answer I pointed out that she’s not ready for anything like dancing, but rather than leave him feeling defeated suggested he practice with Rachel. I’d forgotten about the sibling cootie factor; neither of them has any intention of dancing with the other. They'll spar each other, but dancing?

Char suggested I teach the kid to dance.

Alex was supposed to protest with the same grossed out hell no he protested the idea he and Rachel dance together, but being the pain in the ass he can be he decided I would be an acceptable substitute for his mother, and after dinner I found myself in the living room slow dancing with my six feet tall fourteen year old son.

It would have been less uncomfortable without the howling laughter coming from the other two kids, and without the amused smirk on Char’s face. I also could have done without Alex putting his head on my shoulder and telling me that I’m awfully cute.

I now understand why Char dislikes whisker stubble so much. The prickliness on my shoulder has convinced me I might want to occasionally shave if I expect my face to graze someone else’s much more tender skin.