Reluctant Date, Mom Enjoy Prep's Prom

Last year in late January, when the envelope arrived in the mail I knew what it was. I had been waiting for it.
On the other hand, Patrick, who was in ninth grade, wasn't so eager to see it.
No it wasn' t his report card. It was the invitation to Creighton Prep's Valentine Mom Prom. I had heard all about this mom dance from friends who have sons older than my first born, and they gave it rave reviews.
"You and Patrick have to go," my friend Janie said as I stood in her kitchen, looking at the picture pinned to the bulletin board of her and her son at last year's shindig. "We had a great time."
When the invitation arrived informing me of the time, date and cost of this dinner dance, I showed it to Patrick. I think he just mumbled and walked away.
When his Dad got home I showed the invitation to him.
"This sounds like a good time," he said. Then to Patrick, "Are you going to ask mom to the Mom Prom?" Patrick response was simply, "No," but I think he knew that the matter was not going to end as simply as his response and it didn't.
After dinner, John, the husband and father, effectively applied enough pressure to persuade Patrick to pop the question. I enthusiastically agreed to go, even though his invitation was qualified with, "No one else is going."
A few days later when I was filling out the RSVP card, Patrick told me again that "No one else is going."
"Oh, well, we are, because you invited me."
As the big day drew closer, once again I heard that "no one else is going."
"Have you asked around?" I wondered.
"I doubt they would hold this dance at Peony Park ballroom if no one went to it."
After this discussion he must have decided to see if it was going to be just us and the school disciplinarian dining and dancing, because a couple days later he began telling me of other guys who had succumbed to escorting their moms.
Once Patrick came to terms with this, I began thinking about what to wear. For once my wardrobe decision wasn't predominant in my thoughts. I had a pretty blouse and skirt I thought would be appropriately momish to wear but Patrick didn 't have any clothes I considered appropriately sonish.
To the guy who considers tennis shoes with laces and a shirt with a collar formal wear I said, "You'll have to wear a sport coat and tie."
"Are you kidding?" he replied, with a look that suggested I had told him he had to go out dressed like the king of Ak-sar-ben.
I considered buying him a sport coat, but he discouraged me with the logic, "I'll never wear it again." This was true, because he was growing one to two inches every week.
I opted to get him new pants and a shirt, to have him wear one of his dad's ties and to borrow a sport coat from the brother of a friend. He wasn't happy about this idea, "I bet no one will be
wearing a sport coat," he said.
"Put your money where your mouth is," I answered. "I'll bet you $100 (I felt safe in risking this bet) that most everyone will be wearing ties and sport coats or nice sweaters."
On the evening of the dance even my reluctant escort had to admit it was a good time. We ate, danced and had our picture taken. To my surprise, I was introduced by my date to all the guys he had been telling me all sorts of things about since the school year began.
The time for this year's Valentine's mom-prom is here again. Even though I have never collected last year's bet winnings, I have collected an invitation for this year's dance.
My escort isn't enthusiastic, but he is a little less reluctant. He has stopped growing long enough to get his own sport coat and now realizes that dressing up for a few hours won' t permanently disfigure him.
Also, all his friends also have to go. And I said since he has his driver's permit now I'll let him drive us there.
February 10, 1988