Monday, 11 November 2013
I think I have discovered the awful truth behind dad dancing (which awkwardly, also extends to mums, more specifically me). This morning, I fist pumped my way out of bed when I realised it was Friday, which actually is of no relevance to me as my husband works through the weekend & we live in a town that has a whole heap of nothing to do. But, like, totes whatever, why not embrace Friday festivities? My newsfeed was filled with Friday meme's and an overflow of upcoming weekend plans, so I chucked my iPod on, cranked the old school jams from when I was a younger, child-free version of myself & I dropped it like it was hot while I made the kids breakfast. I served London up her toast & fruit, to see she had a bit of a "I'm going to hurl" face on, Kairo's wasn't much better, he looked confused, maybe even a little sad. Thinking I'd served up mouldy bread or off fruit, while I was caught up in my Friday morning jam, I took their plates back.
London asked what I was doing, I checked over the plate of food, which looked to be fine and handed it back, I asked her if it tasted okay, she said," yessssss mum."
So I went back to cutting up the d-floor in the kitchen and making coffee. I don't know about you but as soon as anything Beyonce' comes on, I've got to booty pop so hard, I feel like I'm going to do a hip.
London once again looked ill, so I two stepped to her high chair, to see what was going on & in a rather concerned voice she asked me if I was ok... "Me? I thought you weren't well Londy!"
And then it happened, London got her owl eyes on, you know the face where your eyes get wide and huge and your eye brows touch your hair line, but your mouth stays neutral. "Mum, your dancing is very bad". Ouch. Not just bad, very bad, not just very bad, enough to pull a face that made me think I needed to consult a medical practitioner.
"Kairo, do you feel the same?" Kai rarely says much, but the look of confusion was now replaced with a blank expression, like he had hoped that if he stayed still enough he'd disappear into the high chair and avoid my question.
I was hurt, I don't know if it was my feelings or if I'd given myself whiplash from getting my bobble head on, but either way, I was feeling low.
My dancing was not, is not, never will be bad.... helllllloooo, these moves are what secured me a husband & more than likely the magic trick behind both children! If I hadn't fallen pregnant at 21 & stopped dance class at 11, there was every possibility I would have been a well known back up dancer.
And I mean, I'm not judging when my kids give each other the "that's my jam" look, when the wiggles come on, before they break it down & chicken dance. I love their moves, their clumsy, bit goofy, throwing arms & legs, moves they borrowed from their dad.
So to all you mums & dads out there, it's not you, it's your children & their underdeveloped appreciation for good moves & great rhythm. One day they will stand prouder than Billy Ray Cyrus, when you throw down your twerk, and say loudly & proudly, that's my mum/dad!!!
Until that day, keep booty popping, hip shaking, crumping, twerking, hip hopping & thumb throwing, because no one else can teach (or embarrass) your children how to shake a tail feather, quite like you can!
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