It's Kirsten's birthday. She's twelve. She put on her orange dress, and we went to the school dance. Rachel and I danced a bit, and I sat with Paula and listened to her stories of how she's going to make a big success of her life and then rub her ex's face in it. Kirsten and her friends danced the entire time. Three boys and eight girls, from her group of friends. There was an inordinate (to my way of thinking) amount of slow dances, near the end. Kirsten and her friends danced these in couples, some boy girl couples, some girl girl couples, at arms length regardless of the sex. At one point, she was at arms length with Ted, whose father leaned over my shoulder and said, "Kirsten and Ted are burning up the dance floor". I looked, and they were just standing there, Ted with his hands on Kirsten's hips and Kirsten with her hands on Ted's shoulders. Not moving. On the way home, one of the boys, David, was walking with us, and Kirsten and her girlfriends were complaining about the lack of boys. I said, "But it's good for the boys," and David said, with this evil little grin, "Why do you think I requested so many slow songs?" M, who of course hates to dance, went to the movies.

This morning, a (presumably) teenage boy on the Habbo Hotel website married Rachel, who told him that she was sixteen. (she's seven) It's a funny site, you get to have a little animated lego-type person and navigate rooms and chat to people. Rachel took me there this evening, we made me a little lego girl, called her frog17 and set her loose. my frog-girl ended up taking a bubblebath with a very nice young man, who kindly offered to answer all her questions. Rachel, who was prompting me, kept saying "ask him to marry you, you need a boyfriend". Little rat.