spare pants required

I don't think I ever went to a school disco before the age of 9. But in London -everything starts decades earlier. Dancing lessons take place for babes-in-vitro. New borns have raves down the drop-in. Toddlers do 4-day-festivals. So 7 year olds get school discos in their school halls with bad ecoustics (?sp) bad light slippery floors cheap tat for sale at the door and the joy of seeing their teachers "mum, I saw Paul, he was DRINKING BEER in the school hall that is sooooo weird" (7 year old puts on what I'd only describe as sooooo weird American accent from her one-ever-viewing of Hannah(eugh-give-me-the-vom-bucket)Montana) what was I saying, oh yes, teachers being off-duty drinking beer in the lunch-hall.
I'm really referring to Mols school disco that took place last Friday.
Possibly the worst day of the week for a disco to take place?
Children: way too tired (therefore prone to tears and general-malfunction)
Parents: way too tired (as above)
Teachers: way too tired (as above but probably magnified 10x)
Music: way too loud (I should think the music is directly responsible for Liz's ear-drum-explosion yesterday afternoon where she spent 5hours with my hand clutched like a vice to her head as she yelled "OOOOOOHHHHAAAAAAAH" like a scene from One Born Every Minute - listen to the sound effects on this link)
The intentions I know, are valid: fun, community spirited - and it may be that I wasn't feeling very community spirited on Friday as I was recovering from a day of violent vomming (and I hadn't even watched Hannah Montana) and I felt weak - too weak to endure the base of the kiddy-muzac booming out full blast - but gawd...
I remember school discos with a trembly tummy sort of - oh god, I've got to dance in front of all these people and my brothers-hand-me-down-jumper is just so un-cool and I'm not allowed to wear eye-liner but all the girls are and now I'm just a wall-flower and I don't know what to do.Some kids can dance. Some kids can't. Some kids have flashing shoes. Some kids don't. Some kids have cool parents. Some... well. Y'know. And I went to the disco on Friday actually carrying the same anxiety for Mol: will she be ok?
But now I realise that 7 year olds don't have quite the same levels of self-conscious-anxiety as perhaps a 9 year old (or just me), so actually the school disco on Friday was really quite a happy place (bar Mol getting whacked in the eye with one of those day-glow-necklaces, and Liz peeing in her pants and all over her tights, and therefore going commando, and then deciding to do rolie-polies on the dance floor - I'll get my coat) and it was actually quite sweet, if I stuck my fingers down my ear-holes and ignored the teachers "dancing", to see the little people hopping about in a totally carefree way.
No wallflowers at this disco.
No pre-teen-angst in the hall last Friday night.
So that was nice. Yes. Indeed. Happy faces all round.
Oh but how old do I feel now? My girls go to discos and I moan about how loud the muzac is? (Call this music? Its just a thumping noise! I'll show you music!)
The lesson to be learned from Friday night: take ear plugs; smile at anything anyone says even if you can't hear them, and most definitely bring a spare pair of pants.