Give a little, get a lot

I couldn't resist sharing this...you made my day, Abby!

P.S. Look how skinny I am!

Dorks Rule

The Jonas Brothers (aka Jo Bros, as I learned today) 3D Movie was awe some. When I was telling Todd about it on the phone, he said, "You're kidding, right? You're just saying that because Jack is standing there. Right?"

I had to explain that no, I was quite serious. I was the one who wanted to see the movie; I had to invite a bunch of elementary school girls so I wouldn't look like an idiot going by myself. My friend Stacie and I, escorting four little girls and Jack (of course), went to the movie yesterday. I loved it.

Great music (because I'm a teen pop junkie, as you know) and good lookin', clean cut boys who (allegedly) won't have sex until they're married. Three teenaged boys who, when asked what they focus on when they're on stage -- as in, how do they not get distracted by the 35,000 screaming 12 year olds -- answered, "We just go out there and try to make our mom proud." Now if that didn't make me cry, I don't know what would.

My girls (including Jack) all loved it, although Jack and Janey made a good show out of saying, "it was good, it was ok." Yeah, right. I swear it took everything Jack had, not to jump out of his seat pretending to be a drummer, especially during the scene where two of the brothers did this little drum solo on a line of drums covered in water, resulting in much spray and cool lighting and significantly increased screaming.

There's something about wholesome and dorky that is of great, lost value these days. It's hard to find and it's hard to espouse, since everyone else is trying to be cooler and sexier and nastier than everyone else. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about songs with "explicit" warnings on them; I'm not exactly Mary Poppins here. But some days, when Matt is out I-don't-know-where (and suspended from school), when I think he's doing drugs or stealing things or whatever other nightmare I can come up with, a couple of hours with wholesome and dorky feels pretty good. Gives me hope. Restores my faith.

We may have been the only parents there who were singing along and clapping and pretending like we were at a real concert. And maybe Stacie was doing that just to be a good mom for her daughter, maybe she's not a closet fan, like me. No matter; I had a blast. Even if I was for real.