My teenager: a post-dance interview.

This is the third one of these we've had, and I think I've written about the other two. Let's see, first there was this one in the fall of 2009, then this one last autumn, so, yeah, this one's definitely number three.

The ritual hasn't varied, other than the fact that each successive episode includes a few additional gussied up teenagers squeezing into our brick bungalow for a high school dance pre-function.

Last night, twenty-five sixteen- and seventeen-year-old children congregated for some Safeway Select frozen pizza, Caesar salad and root beer, electrifying our living room with more giddy energy than a twelve-ounce can of Welch's frozen Robin Williams Concentrate.

They were a fantastic group of kids, at least as far as I could tell, since I couldn't understand them. They spoke a dialect of inside joke humor and abbreviations; curling irons were referred to as "c.i.'s" and the term "for sure" was pronounced "fowsh." Frozen pizza? "Frope."

I realize now that my house is divided between those who speak English and one who claims "Eng" as her primary language.

At nine o'clock, our house instantaneously purged itself of the four inch heels, the short, shiny dresses and the basketball shoes worn with slacks. The time had arrived to hit the 2011 Chief Sealth International High School Homecoming Dance.

The kids retreated to their cars, and the newly silent house rang my ears with a piercing din, reminding me of searching for the Ford Grenada in the quiet night air after watching the Scorpions.

For the next few hours, to the best of my knowledge, the evening proceeded successfully. No police activity, anyway.

I asked my daughter this morning for permission to interview her about the dance while it was still fresh in her mind. She consented, provided I performed the interview while she showered. The following conversation took place as I sat on the toilet seat, talking to a shower curtain.

My words will be in italics; hers in normal case.

So, you've been to a few of these now. Are they still as fun?

Yeah, I guess. They always go the same way. No one dances and then, suddenly it's a huge mosh pit.

Do you ask each other to dance?

No. You just start dancing and usually, you just end up next to someone.

So two people don't walk out together?

No. Dad, no. What the heck? Why would they do that?

What if you end up dancing next to someone you don't want to be with?

If they're a jerk or a bad dancer, you just walk away and circle back. It's really easy.

Who was the best looking guy there?

No one stood out. Most of the guys wear ties whenever they have football or basketball games, so I'm used to seeing them look nice.

What about the other guys? The non-athletes? What about the bad boys?

No. They're not hot at all. Eww. They're gross. They do nothing with their time except pierce themselves and get tattoos.

Lots of tattoos at your school?

Oh, my god, Dad. Of course. Did lots of kids have tattoos when you were in high school?

No.

None?

None.

That's weird. At least one person in each of my classes has a tattoo. Is that right? Let's see. First period? Yes. Second period? Yes. Third period? Yes. Fourth period? Yes. Fifth period? Yes. Sixth period? Yes.

Was anyone at the dance highly obnoxious?

Well, one guy tried to do a back flip but couldn't, and he hit his head on the floor. I'm sure he got a concussion. And then, the DJ didn't get paid at the end of the night because he had signed an agreement to bleep out any swear words in the music and I must have heard the "F" word six or seven times. So he didn't get paid.

Anything else you want to add?

Well, it was really fun, but strange to dance in the lunchroom. The theme was "A Night in Gotham City," but it was really a night in the lunchroom with a sign that said "Gotham City."

I love this face wash. It makes my face feel really nice.

Would you be interested in having your mom and I chaperon the next one?

No.

Okay, how about just me? I can be cool.

Dad, who wants a fifty year old man standing in a dark corner by himself watching everyone? That's even creepier than both of you being there.

Good point.

The Interview

The youthful administrative assistant approached Panos as he relaxed in the smooth, brown leather chair. She smiled and paused briefly.

"Mr. Wexley will see you now. Please follow me."

Panos rose to his feet, grabbed his ornamental briefcase and strode half a step behind the attractive woman. She opened the door to the sun-splashed corner office and retreated back to her desk.

"Panos, Jarvis Wexley. It's a pleasure to meet you." Wexley sprung up from behind his sizable oak desk, his hand extended. "Have a seat, please."

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Wexley."

"Call me Jarvis. Being called 'Mr. Wexley' makes me feel like I'm talking to my proctologist. Heh, heh!"

Panos forced a chuckle and sat down, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"I've taken the liberty of reading through your résumé. Very impressive, indeed. But you do realize we've interviewed literally hundreds of people for this position, and we we're still not done."

"Oh, yes, sir," replied Panos. "Par for the course."

"So, let's get started. It says here that you got a finance degree and your first position was with Monsanto. What did you take away from that experience?"

"Well, sir, I suppose my biggest lesson was that an elected official's opinion can be modified far more easily than corn seed, but both lead to vast financial reward for the stockholder."

"I see. And then you accepted a position with Arthur Andersen. And your largest client was a company called Enron. Tell me about that."

Panos was ready for this one. "Sir, have you ever had an itch on your back that you couldn't reach? Arthur Andersen and Enron each had itches, and they discovered that if they embraced each other, their itches could be simultaneously scratched. A lot of people became very wealthy from our relationship, and I got out of there before some people made some mistakes."

"And then you came on board at Halliburton?"

"Correct. I learned that, when it comes to the government, 'no-bid' equals 'no lid'."

Panos attempted to gauge Wexley's response, but the interviewer merely stared blankly across the desk.

"From there," continued Wexley, "Goldman Sachs enlisted your services. What can you tell me about your experience there?"

"Let me put it this way." Panos stared out the window, taking in the view from the 46th floor. "When your job his hiding the proverbial razor blade in the financial caramel apple, eventually someone's tonsils are going to be slashed, so I bailed out of that situation..."

"Okay, you know what? Just stop right there. I think I've heard enough." Wexley rose again from behind his desk and approached the still-sitting Panos, whose mood had instantly darkened.

"I think we've found our man. Congratulations, Panos, and welcome to British Petroleum."

Panos stood and faced Wexley, thrusting his hand out to seal the deal.

Wexley ignored the gesture and engulfed Panos in an aggressive hug.

A brief interview with Yin and Yang

The month of April marks milestone birthdays for both of my daughters; Zoe will turn 15 and Lauryn will be ten. I've often listened to their varying takes on life, but I've never posed the same set of questions to each of them. The time has come. I sat down with my girls over a dinner of taco salads and pineapple, pulled out a list of pre-determined questions and wrote as quickly as I could. Hopefully, the answers will remain true to their voices.

Lauryn, what advice would you give the parent of a ten-year-old?
Let your kid do whatever they want, except drugs, alcohol and get pregnant.
Zoe, what would you say to the parent of a 15-year old?
Let them drive short distances before they have a permit, and you should let them text as late as they want if it's important.

Lauryn, if you could change anything about your first ten years, what would you change?
I would change the bad words I've said to people, and I would've spent more time with my sister.
Zoe, how about you?
When I was four, I wouldn't have peed on the floor of my room and wiped it up with my dad's towel and put it back, thereby forcing my dad to dry himself with my urine.

Lauryn, ten years from now, what do you want to look back upon and say that you've accomplished?

Ummm...drive a car and make a lot of friends. And over ten years, I want to walk 30 miles.

Zoe, when you're 30, what do you want to say that you've done?

I want to have had a 20-point scoring average by my senior year, and have graduated from high school and college with at least a 3.7 GPA (brief pause in the conversation). Mmmmm...my hair is soft.

Lauryn, what will ten-year-olds have in ten years that you don't have now?

TVs as big as a wall and cell phones in their brains.

Zoe, what will 15-year-olds have in 15 years?

Trampoline floors, cars will be powered by air and teachers will be robots. 

(At this point, the girls' mother points out that she plans on still being a teacher in 15 years.)

Okay, last question: If you have ten- and 15-year-old children, respectively, what would their names be and what would they be like?

Lauryn: Her name would be Skyler and she would be very unique and creative and she would grow up to be a painter and sometimes I would need to give her cash.

Zoe: His name would be Blake and he would be very cute and always have short hair and he'd be a ladies' man with a lot of cool Nikes and he'll be really funny.

Thanks for your time, both of you.

Interviewer's note: I'm not sure I'd want a ladies' man for a grandson, like a little mini David Hasselhoff. Wait a minute... I'm  jealous of a non-existent person. Anyway, now that we've got everything mapped out, I guess my work as a parent is done.