I remember playing truth or dare for the first time in 8th grade. It was a boy/girl party. Not the “I’m in 4th grade and some of my friends are girls, and some are boys, so they’ll all come over and we’ll play baseball and we’ll open presents and we’ll eat cake” kind of boy/girl party, but in the “I will invite these cute boys and hope they come, and hope that I can kiss one of them” sense.
No one chose truth. No one wanted to tell truths. We only wanted to kiss.
And we hoped against hope that our braces wouldn’t lock, and that we wouldn’t drool, and that kissing a boy would be somewhat similar to kissing the back of our hands, or our pillow, or the air in front of the mirror.
But these girls in my living room are 2 years away from that.
They mostly choose “truth.” And they want to know “what boy do you think is cute?” And they don’t care when the Mom of the House comes in 1/2 way through the round – they say, “oh, please let us stay up? You can stay while we finish!” And they continue with their conversation about the “most annoying person in our grade” and then they ask, “what’s the most embarrassing thing your mother does when people are around?”
I swear to god – E said, “My mom really isn’t embarrassing.” After her friends shared stories (which I found fun to be around for, and mortified on their mothers’ behalves .. even though nothing was all that embarrassing, really). I laughed and said, “well, that’s just because I’m in the room.” But then I reminded E that I have yelled at her in front of at least two of her friends – when one of the others raised her little hand and said, “you yelled at her in front of me, too!”
Thanks for that, sweet girl.
[For clarification: “Yelled at” = reprimand, correct, informing child of unmet standards and expectations. “Yelled at” does NOT = raised voice; bulging veins in the neck; insults; swear words; intimidating behavior.]
But the real fun part: The dares.
Beloved and I were in our room, hanging out at our various computers. Our door was closed. The girls were playing truth or dare – having given me assurances that there would be no dares involving the removal of clothing, and no truths resulting in hurt feelings.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in!” says Zuska.
Friend 1 comes in the room. “Can we please stay up 5 minutes past 11:30?”
Zuska looks at the friend quizzically. “Are you all okay?”
“yes.”
“Are you fighting?”
“no!”
“Is anyone crying?”
“No!”
“Well, I’ll come check on you at 11:30 and decide then.”
Beloved looks at me like I’m on the moon. “5 minutes, Zuska?”
“Yeah?” I’m confused. “Should I have said yes?”
“Yah!” he says.
“Oh.” I call Friend 1 back. “Beloved says yes, you can have 5 more minutes.”
Friend 1 laughs, and tells the other kids.
Beloved says, “That was a dare.”
“huh?” Says Zuska the One With No Clue.
“Zuska, 5 minutes? What’s the point in asking for 5 minutes? It’s irrational. It was a dare!”
I jump up and go out to the living room.
“Was that a dare?”
My Child: NO!!
Friend 1: NO!!
Friend 2: NO!!
Friend 3: NO!!!
Friend 4: [small voice] maybe?
She said she couldn’t think of anything better.
Then later, I come out to get a glass of water, and the girls are all giggling. “E, you are in so much trouble!” one says. I get my water. “What?”
“Look at the chalkboard!” [which is our chore board and reminder place]. Oh. All the chores are crossed out. So is my new work number. So is “{Friend 4} was here.” So is Thursday’s dinner (the girls like to know what we’re having for dinner. If we don’t write it on the board, they ask 14,000 times).
E dared Friend 3 to cross it all out.
They then told me the other dares: Ice down the shirt; Friend 3 was dared to come into our room and pretend that her feelings were hurt and she was crying — she refused. I told her it was a good thing, because I would have freaked right out. She said she refused because she thought it would get E in trouble.
They know I’m a ninny.
So innocent, still.
I think this is the last year.
So yes, I’m enjoying it.
100%.
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