Tonight I watched my daughter walk home from a big night out. She was staggering down the street in front of me, swigging from a bottle in knee high boots and a skirt so short it almost made her dad cry. Her tights were abandoned,as she was "Too warm" and she was giggling and shrieking with the thrills of the night.
She is 5. It was her first school family disco. Family in this case being me, Max, Rex and her. Even the thought of it was all too much for Daddy, after a week that has included Ofsted and the Playstation crashing.
I wasn't the only one, although there was a very impressive turn out of enthusiastic fathers huddled in corners or checking their phones at table, there were many mummies like me, quietly nursing a plastic cup full of wine and being upstaged by the Omnimothers of the PTA simultaneously showing the girls how to do the Macarena, cleaning up Fruit Shoot spills and serving hot dogs and penny sweets.
It was marvellous, actually. Fascinating to watch the children having such a fantastic time with so little self-consciousness. Maybe it's because we live somewhere fairly quiet, but there was also a pleasing lack of mini-mileys, which, innocent or not, I always find a bit disturbing on MBFGypsy Wedding.
I even managed to resist the temptation to stop her dancing to Thicke. Can't promise I'll be doing that again.
I must have another few years of that before the first scene becomes more sinister. Ten? Eight maybe? I'm going to make sure I go to every school disco from now on.
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