My house was a jungle last night. Picture this: 8 junior high girls, primarily 6th grade, crammed onto my leather couch in my living room. Pretty scary in and of itself, right? Well, now picture this. Giggling and inside jokes abound, but all noise ceases when the doorbell rings. Wide-eyed, the girls watch as the door creaks open…oh my goodness, controlled excitement breaks loose as the girls realize who is at the door—Brandon*. Relative maturity and “coolness” reign until the boy and his friend round the corner and head downstairs to join the other young males. Audible sighs of love and relief, mixed with giggles and high-pitched explanations follow for at least 15 minutes. Followed by multiple episodes of one or two “brave” girls running half way down the basement stairs to view the specimen himself. The ever assertive best friend sends the half eaten donut of the poor girl with the hardest crush on Brandon down with the youth pastor to offer the boy a bite–shared donut spit, mmmmmm.
(*names have been changed for the protection of the idolized)
Ironically enough, the lesson for the evening was “Temptation”.
Later on in the evening, when the hormone-raging groups were allowed to mingle, controlled chaos was the perfect descriptive term. Junior high girls doing back walk overs, junior high boys hanging from the basement ceiling. Others giggling, flirting, and of course, screaming.
What a lesson in pre-teen hysteria, when the exhileration of the dance is enough to thrill all, even the 20-somethings hosting the wide-eyed, enthusiastic youth.
Originally posted March 2006