The Sock Hop

I had hoped to bring the Monkeys in costume to the Sock Hop, their first school function, a dance party for preschoolers. I had found found really nice poodle appliques obviously meant for circle skirts, but my sewing machine had seized up over a bobbin thread. I took the machine apart as much as I dared, could see the problem thread but could not remove it. Sigh. No period costumes.

I do have friends with sewing machines, but I didn't call anyone because I've never sewed on an electric. Yes, Miss Video Production sews on a foot-powered machine, a Singer treadle. That's what I learned on, and I really don't feel like going any faster. Of course, with video editing there's no way I'd stick with the Video Toaster and Amiga system I learned on.

I put in some parent volunteer hours with set-up, and being the tallest person, I hung all the glittery garlands, crepe paper ribbon, and decorative records. Duct tape really works best on cinder block walls, though it seemed like overkill with the crepe paper. Also, the cafeteria chairs proved much studier to stand on than the step-stool someone brought for the occasion. The music man was setting up too, a couple of keyboards and his speakers. I heard a whisper that he had played as part of Haley and the Comets years ago.

The Monkeys were intrigued when I explained that admission ("the ticket to get in") to the Sock Hop was a pair of new socks. Monkey1 picked out a six-pack of white cotton socks, calling them "Money Socks." I did have to clarify that we can't use Money Socks at the grocery store.

Monkey2, age 2 and 3/4, made a beeline for the dance floor right in front of the music and danced and twirled and found partners. She doesn't even attend the preschool.

Monkey1, age 4 and 3/4, hung back, eyed where her classmates were, sampled the food table, and then visited the activities station, where she put on two temporary tattoos, little hearts on one arm. The fascination lasted about five minutes, and then she was clawing them off, tearfully telling me she didn't want them. Soap did not remove them, but a little rubbing with a wet paper towel did the trick. Then she chased around with her friends, taking the little inflatable table decorations -- microphones, guitars, etc. -- and whacking each other with them. During one careening chase around the room, the inflatable jukebox was "mistaken" for a punching bag. Since one of the parents had had to inflate this over-four-foot tall object without a pump, I intervened.

I bundled the Monkeys into their pajamas before latching them into the car, Dad to put them to bed while I helped take down the decorations. Reportedly Monkey2 cried all the way home because she thought Mommy was staying to dance without her. Walking down the dimly lit halls, re-checking that doors were locked, I recalled my lock-up duties in the college theater building. Funny how the cast of shadows were the same, yet what worlds away that was, before everything that is now.

Well, not before the sewing machine.