PRE-K PROM

Much of my recounting so far has been to clarify assumptions that Texas is some foreign country with dusty roads, tumbleweeds blowing down deserted streets and every man wearing a belt buckle the size of his head. Baring a few creature encounters, the stores sell clothes that you can find anywhere (more sundresses of course); hair styles are remarkably unremarkable; and I see about the same number of cows and horses as I did driving around Snohomish County.

In order to get to know some folks locally, I have signed up for a moms meetup group--basically a group of moms that has an online message board and hosts occasional events. I'm basically a lurker but I like to check in. The other day, I saw a post: "PRE-K Prom & Graduation!"

My curiosity peaked. I read the post where a mom waxed enthusiastically about her daughter's PRE-K Prom, Graduation and Daddy Daughter dance. Other members chimed in with messages of support "such fun!" "make sure to post pictures" and "I'm sure she'll have a great time" as she described how her daughter was going to wear a pageant dress that she had only worn once; was looking for the high heels that her daughter insisted on wearing; and described the route that the limo they had rented was going to take to lengthen the five-minute journey to the event hall. Have a mentioned that the graduate in question is FIVE YEARS OLD!

This morning's update recounted the trauma that ensued when Pre-K Mom's husband had to work on the night of the dance, so Pre-K Princess' older brother stepped in as her escort. With corsage and boutonniere purchased, Mom was off to get her own hair done.

I can only hope that this is an isolated incident of insanity. Apparently, we're not only pushing academic expectations into the lower grades--reading before or during Kindergarten and three hours of homework in third grade--but we're also importing the social expectations as well. How wonderful that a five-year-old can experience the joy of a limo ride and a manicure, as well as the despair of having your date cancel. This is madness. No wonder folks today have little concept of delayed gratification.

Now, I'm sounding like an old curmudgeon.

Maybe, it's just this one school. Maybe it's just Texas. At Shantih's swim lesson on Friday morning, I looked around at one point and realized that out of the twelve women in the room, I was the only one who wasn't a shade of bottle blond. Maybe it's just me . . .