The Prom Princesses

          I love girls. It is a good thing since I have five daughters, and a wife, not to mention the dog and frog, but sometimes it almost more than I can bear. Now is one of those times, it is prom time. God, give me strength.

            This is not my first rodeo with proms. I have been through many, even to the point of borrowing a friend's Rolls Royce and chauffeuring the girls and their dates to dances, but this one is different. It is the first prom for both the Princesses, and they are going to the same one, but to make this unique, they are not only going to the same one, but with the same boy, at the same time. It brings new meaning to the term "double date".

            After first glance, it is not as strange as it may seem, at least, not to me. The Princesses are very close, closer than any two siblings I have ever known, even twins. They say they should have been twins. They have the same likes, do many of the same things, and are truly BFFEs. That's "Best Friends For Ever" to those of you uninitiated into the lexicon of texting. They are very different in temperament, and to me, in looks, are joined at the hip in many ways, but going out with the same boy, at the same time, to the same dance? I don't know about this.

            The young man doing the asking is one they box with at the gym. He is a very nice boy, with some skill, excellent manners, and is okay looking. The Princesses say he is hot, but what do they know? Anyway, he came up to me at one of our sparring sessions, and asked me, calling me Mister Atwood, something I will never be comfortable with, "Do you mind if I ask your daughters to prom?"

            I wasn't certain I had heard him use the plural, but gave my blessing. I was still surprised when he went to each Princess, asking her out. They were thrilled, while I and the other boxers were delighted.

            I ask him later, "Why both?"

            His reply, "They're a set, aren't they?"

            On the way home, the Princesses could not shut-up about this young man, how thrilled they were that a senior, with his own car, had invited both of them to prom. I shuddered, and swallowed hard, but was smiling all the while. The Princesses are growing up.

            To the next boxing session, I had the Princesses wear their custom made shirts that have a set of boxing gloves on the front surrounded by the words, "Touch me, and the first lesson is free." I faintly hoped he might be discouraged, but the opposite was true. He was delighted and told me he was up to the challenge. I do hope he knows what the challenge is, and where it will come from.

            On the way home from that class, the talk took the turn I dreaded, dresses. I had almost forgotten about that subject much in the same way a patient in a bad accident or injury blocks out the memory for survival, but it came crashing back to my conscious mind. I was going to have to buy two dresses!

            The expense of two dresses is enough to make me go into shock, but when the talk turned to the fact that they had to match, but not be the same, I knew the Admiral and I were in for a long haul. As I write this, four days before the event, there are five dresses, one, the Admiral's prom dress, hanging in various places around the house, none of which exactly fit either of the Princesses. The Admiral has her work cut out for her. I want to go and hide in the shop until it is time to take pictures. Where is the Fairy Godmother when you need her?

             This week is supposed to be spring break, a week of fun, going places, and relaxing, but has turned into the high-intensity time of shopping for shoes and accessories, which cannot be done until dresses are decided upon and fitted. At the current rate, that may not be until the day of the prom, which further adds to the tension and stress.

            I have retreated deeper into the shop, somewhere behind the tractor humming to myself, making engine noises, trying to drown out the cries of, "This will never fit," or, "These shoes don't match this bag," and don't forget, "My hair looks awful!"

            It will all come together minutes after the young man is here to pick up his dates, giving me my opportunity to participate in the time honored ritual of terrorizing him as I casually finish cleaning my shotgun by working the action as he comes in the front door. Pictures will be taken, many laughs will be had, smiles shared, and the Admiral and I will shed a few tears as our young women walk away to get into a car with this intrepid young man.

            Don't you think the Princesses will be lovely with their formal dresses covered by their "Touch me, and the first lesson is free" T-shirts? Won't they be charmed by the sound of my maniacal laughter after I declare, "I don't mind going back to prison," as they walk away? It will be a night to remember.