Dancing in Detention

 

Once a gaggle of middle school girls were talking about dancing and I overheard them.  My gr-daughters were dedicated to Irish Dancing, and I smiled.  One asked me if I danced.  Hah!

I grew up in a small country town of 437 population.  There were four protestant churches.  Our small, very conservative church outlawed dancing, make-up, movies, any place that served alcohol, jewelry, wearing sleeveless blouses/dresses, no female slacks to be worn in the church...

Still I smiled.  Irish dance shoes won't ever be on my feet but I don't need them.  I have this group of talented dancers/actors as my teachers:

The Detention Dance sequence is so amazing. 4 minutes long. The famous dance scene is at 3:29.

Irish dancing is definitely not in my wheel house of skills. Except I  have NAILED this famous dance.  I have made some adjustments. 

My gr-daughters were always brought home from their preschool by their daddy. I was there with a prepared lunch.  One day I introduced them to this dance, renaming it as the "Tuna fish Sandwich Dance".  We danced around at lunch, danced some more. 

So, I told those know-it-all middle school dancers that  Yes, I dance,  the breakfastclub (breek faist eh cluh buh) dance. Confusion drifted over their faces. They nodded blankly and took off, whispering as they went. I hoped they would search for this title and then learn the meaning of life.

Still Swirling

Bright Eyes (3 yr.) and Sunshine (1 yr.)

From the day our granddaughters were born, we have been blessed to be part of their lives in many ways.  It is a thrill to share our joys and interests with them, receiving same in return.

Now they are in the “tween” age, neither child nor teen, confusing us all. Hormones or no, they still delight us with this new stage.

A movie, Leap, recently appeared and we took our girls to spend time in this dark theater with us and watch a young girl who wished to become a ballerina.

DanceInform

Leap was delightful, at least to us and partly to the girls. Images that once made them happy and laughing held them in silence, even stoic. If we had not sneaked in two orders of edamame for them, they might have fallen asleep.

When Leap was over, both girls ripped it apart. 

Oh, Grandma…no girl could learn ballet in five days…Look, see! NO one could have made that move!...See THAT pirouette! Not remotely possible!...THAT defies laws of physics!...NO one could do that!...She should have DROPPED like a big heavy stone…I mean REALLY!!..

 They were absolutely spot on.  Two Irish dancers with many years of experience and awards could rightly judge.

Just when we were about to sigh heavily, a flutter of little girls in filmy tutus ran by, raced by giggling, to the screen where credits rolled and music played.  They swirled around, arms lifted over their heads in light, shadows against screen.

”Daddy! Daddy!  We want to be ballerinas!  See us dance!”

A new generation of future dancers brought smiles to tween faces and sweetness of remembered days to us when they wore little girl dresses, swirling and squealing.

Sunshine (11 yrs.) and Bright Eyes (12.5 yrs.)

Disturbance of the Force in the Sock Drawer

Source: tick..tick...tick

When the Sock Drawer heard the history of the new foreigners of the Drawer, they were astounded.  Until now, the only foreigner had been the flashlight in very back of the drawer, and he appeared to be sleeping most of the time.

Caution was the order of the elders.  Take care when approaching.  But the young socks did not listen, as the young do not.  The glowing numbers from the round object with aqua blue attachments drew all with its mystery.  The persistent tick-tick-tick at first was amusing in its regularity.  The glow produced just enough light that the socks were entranced by its rhythm and shimmer.

Spontaneous dance began, slowly at first and then emerged as 1-2-3 and 1-2-3.  Soon the entire drawer was whirling about to the rhythm, each with their mate.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The singles socks swung into the mix, the male socks broke off from their mates and continued the 1-2-3 with the single socks. 

Source

The older socks gasped and sought out the Elder Sock with the rubber tread.  She moved slowly the front of the crowd.  A fury of angry lint flurried about her.  THIS must stop immediately!  All obeyed without question. 

A conflagration of the Elder Sock, the Woolen Argyles from Scotland, along with a few old Christmas Socks was held in the far corner by the flashlight.  Wisps of lint rose, and static crackled.  Really?  Do you think we should?  Oh, this has never happened before!

It must be done!

The plan was explained in such authoritative terms to all that not one sock could dispute it.

The ticking circle was wrestled into and slightly through the open crack in the drawer.  The peculiar square was pushed with great effort.  Then all socks moved to the back of the drawer, followed by great momentum to the front.  The drawer opened just a smidge.  Repeating this great effort, the round ticking circle worked its way through the opening.

Gathering beneath the blue object the socks pushed up and up.  With a whish the tick-tick circle flew out of the circle, landing on the floor.

For some time in the days that followed, the tick-tick-tick could still be heard.  When it abruptly stopped, the younger socks mourned.  The older socks sighed in relief.

P.S.  The previous post from the Land of Sock Drawer was this:  http://thecontemplativecat.blogspot.com/2012/08/massacre-in-sock-drawer.html
and this  http://thecontemplativecat.blogspot.com/2013/07/disturbance-of-force-in-sock-drawer.html

Father-Daughter Dance

The Father-Daughter Dance: who could talk about anything else?! 

This Friday, it is this Friday!...OMG!  What are you going to wear?...and I get to wear make-up, Mom said.  REAL make-up…My dress is gonna have sequins and tiny straps, you know, like they wear on “iCarly”….and new shoes with tall heels, just like on “Monster High”…

The bell rang and the cluster of eight year-olds broke up.  Parents listened to the excited girls rage on about what the friends were wearing.  All of them sighed.

Mommy took “Lisa” to Burlington Coat Factory to peruse the dresses for the dance.  The eight year old Lisa was bouncing all the way to the racks where her size dresses awaited.

She was now a size 8 in girls; life was much simpler when it size 4-6X.  Now the rack would hold sizes 7 to 16.  Damn.

source

Mixed together were dresses of all types, styles, quality, and value.  The battle lines were quickly drawn.  Neither side was going to budge.

From same source as above.  

Dress after dress was pulled out.  Lisa grasped the strapless glitzy 'hooker' dress (note: a hooker dress is any dress designed to be worn by a 16+ teenager, not by an 8 year old) to her baby chest, claiming that she had to have this dress.  Mommy held out a sleeveless dress of floral blue and purple voile, tied with a bow.  Yes. No. Yes. No.  Both were in tears.

Same source as above

What will happen?  Will the hooker dress (note: a dress like this looks terribly terribly wrong on an 8 year old; disturbingly wrong) be worn to the dance?  Will Mommy lock Lisa in a convent until she is 18? 

On Wednesday, the battle of the Father-Daughter Dance continues…