“Dad, I have something to tell you.”
“Yes, honey.”
“The Father/Daughter Dance tickets are on sale. I want you to take me.”
“Now why would I do that? The last time I took you two to the Father/Daughter dance, both of you walked in with me, spotted your friends and left me at the door. I had to pull you away from your friends and out of the photo booth in order to get you to dance with me!”
“…which was totally embarrassing, by the way.”
“Okay; proving my point. So, why would I take you?”
(Silence)
“Oh, come on! I promise I will dance with you – twice.”
(Oh please! Will you? I guess I should be glad she is willing to schedule me in.)
“You know what? Fine. We will go.”
(Pause)
“There is one thing, though…”
“Of course there is…”
“Well… (tries to spit it out) you can only take me; no one else!”
“Really! Not your sister?”
“No!”
“Really.”
“This time, it is just me!”
(walks away)
So there I was, trying to figure out how to tell my first born that I made an agreement with her sister not to invite her:
“So, I am going to the Father/Daughter dance this year.”
(In her usual, pre-teen crappy attitude voice. FYI, I blame Nickelodeon and Disney) “O-kay?”
“Yup. (sheepishly) But, not with you. (Waits for explosion) Is that okay that I just take your sister?”
(Pause)
Yup.
(walks away)
Well, Shit. That was easy.
UffdaBlack - Adventures in Parenting 
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