“Get your kid off the dance floor”

It’s 8pm and we should have left the house an hour ago to ‘show face’ at a family birthday bash.

The little lady has already gone into meltdown resulting in me throwing the towel in and asking my boyfriend aka Daddy Babe to go it alone and ‘represent’.

He slipped a disc earlier that day so asks that we all go.

This is standard practice in our household.

Toddler Tantrum.

Mum Giving up.

Daddy Babe dealing with both mother and daughter spitting their dummies out.

We arrive at the bash and I sigh when I see a giant staircase leading down to the fire doors which are serving as an entrance from the main road.

This has disaster written all over it.

Between ‘Hellos’  I’m playing the toddler “stop”game as she pulls at table runners, skirts and pretty much anything that moves.

I catch a breath for a minute and an overly confident bald man dressed in a  waistcoat with a trumpet slung around his body and head mic on shakes mine and everyone else’s hand.

He parades through the party and goes on to call an elderly lady sitting in the corner “billy no mates”.

That was a bit awkward.

I forget about the egomaniac and join the little lady and her new crew over by the sweetie cart.

I ask her to “stop” as I can see the inevitable coming.

The sugar high.


There it is.

Within ten minutes she’s sweating and making all kinds of crazy shapes on the dance floor.

From all fours with feet stomping to whipping her hair around like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. *Cue the soundtrack ‘what a feeling’ in my head*

It looks like she’s literally dancing for her life.

I sit and watch her thinking, I wish I could dance like that and not give a shit.

She looked so wild and free.

That was until until Trumpet Man reappeared talking into his headpiece.

“Can you get your kid off the dance floor”

I look at Daddy Babe and he looks just as confused as me.

This chump can’t be for real.

I get up and escort my wild little raver to the side of the dance floor and attempt to dance with her.

She goes psycho.

She doesn’t want to hold hands and dance with me.

She wants to rave.

Alone and unrestricted.

She runs out to middle of the dance floor and starts spinning.

I watch her in awe.

No one is on the dance floor, so I override Trumpet Mans request and let her spin.

I thought…

Unless his act is setting the dance floor on fire then I’m going to let her dance.

I see Trumpet Man.

He doesn’t approve of the spinner stealing his thunder.

He makes a b line for her, whilst looking around for the parent responsible.

His eyes find me.

Points his finger at my baby raver and then gestures his thumb towards the door.

This arsewipe actually wants me to get her off the dance floor.

I wanted to ram his trumpet down his throat.


I go in for round two with the raver and chaperone her off the dance floor.

She goes absolutely ballistic.

I dont blame her.

She was having a blast.

I’d be pissed if someone dragged me off the dance floor.

Unable to calm her down I raise a white flag and head to the car.

Daddy babe follows and immediately suffers the aftermath of the wanky Trumpet Man.

“Why didn’t you help me!” Not knowing myself what I expected him to do.

The journey home was a stalemate.

Trumpet man had ruined the night.

Laying in bed I realised, taking it out on Daddy Babe was me deflecting own guilt for not being stronger and standing up for my daughter.

I should have stood up to Trumpet Man!

The moral of this story is;

Never let a Trumpet Man into your relationship.

Never let a Trumpet Man ruin your night.

Never let a Trumpet Man upset your child for no good reason.


NEVER let a Trumpet Man stop you dancing.

If you ever come across your own ‘Trumpet Man’ be strong and call him out for being a dickhead.

I wish I had.

💜 SSM x

Pssst…Here’s a little treat for you.  Enjoy!



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