The Boy Can Dance

Connor spied me through the window waiting for him at his Vibe Dance Studio. Granny, he squealed, why are you standing at the window? Yep, that's my boy.

I was able to watch his class on the big screen monitors with closed circuit TVs, and let me tell you he dances with gusto but not much balance.

Tap: When he swings his foot he could kick a football to Cleveland. He would skip-kick-kerplunk fall over sideways and then repeat, skip kick kerplunk, skip kick kerplunk. He can rock back and forth, but not much swivel. He is good at pushing and tickling the little girl standing next to him and he is good at waving fare-thee-well to Polly Wolly Doodle as his exited his space on the dance floor.

Eight little girls and Connor. He did say when he arrived, in mass, these are my friends and was telling me their names, but they were busy bossing him around and told him to get to class. He went.

Tap is over so the group charges out to change into their ballet shoes for the second half of class. Connor was the first one out of class and the last one back in. The girls, again, told him to get to class. He went.

Ballet: I watched him pointe his little foot out then plie and then topple over - every time -- over and over again. When the teacher brought out the little satin dance ribbons Connor's looked more like a weapon to battle dark forces with. Teachers of little boys in ballet classes must be sainted with patience, except for Ian's of course.

Girls, girls, girls, girls. I watched the strange girl-greet-girl ritual many times over as several different classes were collecting and dispersing while I waited. There is a little flutter, wiggle, jiggle, and smile, touch or hug -- or all three. And girls know what is going on. It must be genetic material kicking in for when they become moms. They know who is paying attention and who isn't, they know who is late and why, they know who is slacking, who is misbehaving, whose jacket is improperly hung up, who got too much water or not enough, whose mother just arrived or dad as the case may be (lots of dads), whose water bottle is where and who isn't running to class fast enough. Connor.

Let me tell you something else about girls: I never saw so much satin, lace, ribbons, beads, chiffon fluttering, sequins, sparkle, soft rosette and bow adornments in all my life, and just in case you missed it there are several hundred more bows in every combination of shine. All the little girls were in pink Connor was in his Sounder fan sweat suit, navy and lime green.

Yes, he likes his dance class or weapons training, which ever.

Kneecaps come and kneecaps go. I'm not sure where Jerry is in this cycle.
Winter comes and winter goes -- well -- I keep  hoping.

Some things are tenuous.
We can't all be good at the same things
I'm not good with fiances like some family members, I would like to think I'm the good artist but so is Roger, Janice, Mark, Ian, Jeremiah, Christian, Amber, Jean, Jeff, Julia, Tal, Nora, it might be slightly different artistic endeavors, but it is there.
Janice sounds a wee bit better, stronger and thinks there is some improvement in some of her different health ailments. It was comforting to hear.
Some things are tenuous.

Sons are grand.
Christian is a wee bit sad that Bo will be out of town on his birthday.
Ian is heading off to Oregon later this week and then Florida later this month.
Roger is training for his 50k.
Stephanie is stressed because it has been very busy at work.

Stress foods; black beans, oatmeal, tea.

Make someone happy today.