TheBanyanTree: The First of the Last Prom Dresses

[Mike Pingleton]

We're out having dinner at Casa Bonita (the real name is Dos Reales, but the
South Park moniker gets stuck on all mexican restaurants).

And Molly says "today was a good day."  And gets this long goofy grin like
you'd see on a channel catfish pulled up on the bank.

Nell and I are all ears now. "I can count on one hand the number of times
I've heard you say that," I said.  "Spill it."

The catfish only grinned.

Nella puts it all together just like that. "Brandon asked you to the prom."

"No! Kind Of. Maybe. Yes."  Stupid grin gets wider, eyes are glazing over.
"Can we go out to Bergner's tonight and look at dresses?"

Later, she came out of the dressing room, wearing her first prom dress. It's
beautiful - black and white, elegant, perfect. It's also a hundred and fifty
bucks, but who is counting? My last little girl, my last round of formal
dance dresses to buy.

In the silent, eye-to-eye and mind-to-mind communication that parents of
children develop, Nell and I have agreed to make an exception to the "no
boyfriends before you are sixteen" rule, and allow Molly to attend the prom
with Brandon.  Brandon, the non-boyfriend boy friend, who calls every night
without fail. Our condition for this relaxing of the rules - Brandon must
come up to the house and meet us, stand still for pictures. Molly agrees
with a sigh, but not without a smile. Sixteen looms large on her calendar,
heavy with boys and cars and jobs. Sitting in front of the fitting room, it
looks more like a wave to me, one large enough to carry Molly away.

My child slips a little further away from me, in an elegant black and white
dress...