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Monday, December 27, 2010

Dancing with the Stars

With so many children in the home I often come upon scenes that unexpectedly delight me or confuse me or do both. The other day someone was playing Christmas music on the stereo. It was loud and filling the house with joy or with irritation depending on the mood of whoever was hearing it. I came around the corner to find my five-year-old standing on an ottoman, facing the stereo, leading the music. His eyes were closed as his arms swung out the beat. There was a bounce in his knees as he directed. I know better than to think he is going to be a great director someday, but it was good to seem him enjoying the music so thoroughly.

My fourteen-year-old daughter was teaching that same five-year-old how to dance. She first showed him the "old-fashioned" way with one hand on the waist and the other held out. They bent back and forth a minute in mock dance. Then she showed him how most kids dance slow dances today--basically a bear hug. He loves his sister and made the most of it. Then, suddenly, he pushed her away and showed her his dance--he pinched his nose with one hand, held the other in the air with a finger pointing, and then wiggled his hiney as squatted  to the carpet and rose again. The '60s are the days of antiquity to him so where did he come up with that.

This morning I got up early to enjoy some peace and quiet while studying and writing. To my great dismay my twelve-year-old daughter appears rather suddenly with a DDR dance pad in her hands. She looks at me and points at the TV quizzically. Her meaning was all too clear. She wanted to use Dance Dance Revolution to exercise. This wouldn't be so bad except that she would be set up and dancing to rock music right in front of me--and it is only 6:30. Next thing I know my ten-year-old plunks down next to the fire next to me. He rubs his eyes as he attempts to wake up. It slowly becomes clear to me he isn't up by accident. He is up for the sole purpose of exercising with his sister. He has been on an exercise kick lately. What is with my children? I would go somewhere else, but the house is cold and I want to stay by the fire. So now they are chattering happily as they stomp out the rhythm to "Won't You Take Me to Funkytown." Sigh, I suppose if I didn't have any children I would be enjoying the peace and quiet I had first sought this morning. On the other hand, if I didn't have any children I wouldn't be listening to happy chatter and happy feet that belong to me right now.