Cailyn was in the mood to dance the other day. She figured out how to get to the part of my phone where the music is. Actually she figured it out on Chris' phone, but Chris has no music. That was frustrating. The musical note symbol appeared, and Cailyn knew that was supposed to be music, but nothing she did could make any sounds. So she dumped that phone and found mine. And not just any music would do, either. She wanted Christmas music. Of course. It is November. And Thanksgiving seems boring to her. No gifts. No birthday party for Jesus. Just turkey. So Christmas music.
Which brings us back to the dancing. Once we got the Beach Boys Christmas album going, she was ready. Which also meant I was ready. Whether I wanted to be or not. I tried to swing around in my chair and give it the old arm move action. Not good enough.
"You have to be on the floor, DadDad." So I fell to the floor.
"No, DadDad. You have to stand up." So I stood up.
"Now you have to dance, DadDad." So I danced. And she laughed.
"Now, wait a minute," I argued. "I'm dancing. Why are you laughing?"
"That's not dancing, DadDad."
"Well, what is it, then?"
"That's rocking."
Well, in my day, rockin' was a good thing on the dance floor. But I was intrigued. So I continued, "So show me how to dance."
That was followed by a series of twists and twirls that would make any ballerina proud. Again I attempted to follow her lead and was met by … more laughter. Determined to get it right, I finally asked her to show me how her Daddy danced.
"Okay," she replied, with that patented look of condescension I have grown so fond of. She squared off her shoulders and faced me. "You put your arms like this." She demonstrated by holding her arms directly out to her side. I followed. Then she slowly began to wave her arms up and down, up and down. Again, I followed. And again I received a reprimand. It just didn't look quite right to her. She furrowed her brow and frowned, looking at my dance moves. Suddenly her eyes lit up, always a scary sight. Here it comes …
"No, DadDad. You have to do the seagull. Like Daddy."
Doing the seagull. Now that's a nice move, Nathan. I think I've got it. My turn to laugh.
Ecclesiastes 9:17-18 says, "The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded than the shouts of a ruler of fools. Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good."
Father, remind me often to twirl and spin for no particular reason. Amen.
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