The one in which the Godson hosts his first disco
PEER pressure is everything. The Godson may just be turning into double figures, but the social pressures are fearsome.
He has to know the latest tips in Minecraft, has to have enough scouting badges, must understand the subtleties of Bakugan, and must, just MUST, have the correct birthday party.
In previous years, it's been mini golf, bowling, a pizza party and, in the real days of yore, soft play.
Now, though, they're all growing up, this Minecraft generation. He wants a disco. In the village hall. With all his mates. And girls from school.
His mother is torn. Worried that her plan to lock him up away from girls until his 30th birthday might be doomed to fail, but delighted that a horde of marauding ten-year-olds will not be destroying her house.
So plans have been made, and the hall has been booked. Invitations have been issued and replied to.
The scene is set. There's just one more thing, though.
How does a mother-at-large act at her son's first disco?
I send her a helpful video from Saturday Night Live featuring Michelle Obama and depicting the "evolution of mom dancing".
Her reply is swift.
"I will NOT be dancing at the disco!" she announced over a popular social network.
She's changed. Scroll back 20 years and imagine the dancefloor of a Cardiff bar packed with dancers frugging away to Edwyn Collins' "A Girl LIke You" and she was in the thick of it.
I point this out. She remains unmoved. I tell her it's like riding a bicycle, it'll all come back to her. She reminds me I cannot ride a bicycle.
We are at an impasse.
She's probably right. There's a careful line to be walked when it comes to children, who can be the most conservative of beasts. I have a little more leeway because I am the crazy godmother. Godson wouldn't bat an eyelid if he saw me making with the 'big fish, little fish, cardboard box'. He is immune to my eccentricities.
Poor old mothers just don't get that kind of fun.